The Nazi and the Pedo Protecor’s GP – Cardinal Sinner George Pell’s Doctor and His Favourite Patient Ben – the Disgraced Former Pope and Pervert Joe Ratzinger

The Royal Commission into Institutional Responses to Child Sexual Abuse have talked a good game when it came to the personal appearance of George Pell, the Cardinal Sinner, in the Melbourne courtroom to explain to us all why he covered up gross child abuse in Victoria in the 1980’s and 90’s.

They hung tough, for a while at least, demanding that Georgie Boy return to Australia to look the victims in the eye and tell them why he thought it was ok to conceal the crimes that his collared cleric mates had committed against them, and perhaps explain to them the doctrine of forgiveness of sin, and why that particular liturgical favourite means more to Christendom than the agonies of those who have been sinned against.

It all came to a head on Friday, when the Child Abuse Commission Chair, Justice Peter McClellan, held a directions hearing for the purpose of having the Cardinal Sinner explain why he couldn’t jump on a flying kangaroo and come home to face the music.

The Cardinal Sinner of course didn’t personally appear – he was too busy swimming in the Vatican vault, diving like Scrooge McDuck into all the loot – but his high priced legal team from the top end of town turned up to plead their case about why the bloke who ruined a thousand lives couldn’t front up in his town because the poor bugger had a dodgy ticker, and the Commission is all conscience just couldn’t in all put him through the whole ordeal.

In support of the sinner’s claims the $5000 an hour boys threw up a medical report from his GP – a single, untested medical report mind you, no second opinions required for the number 3 man in the global Catholic church – and then promptly tried to suppress its contents, because gee whiz, a man’s medical conditions are confidential unless of course he happens to be a child abuse victim, and then naturally anything goes.

On the day Justice Peter Mac gave the top enders a hell of a hard time, leaving victims with the impression that he was going to hold the line and force Georgie Boy to return to town to give evidence come hell or high water. The rape victims whose perpetrator’s crimes were concealed by the Cardinal Sinner held their breath in expectation over the weekend, and the courtroom was packed with both punters and expectation as Macca handed down his verdict today.

And then the balloon got pricked, as Macca delivered his decision that the priestly prick was too sick to fly, and quoted the good Professor Patricia Polisca to explain the reasons why. I won’t go into the detail of Professor Pat’s diagnosis, simply because I believe it to be complete and utter bullsh*it, but the guts of it is that old Georgie’s ticker is even dodgier than his soul, and the hell-bound bastard might cark it and get to Lucifer’s luxury lair even sooner than God intended if we forced him onto one of Alan Joyce’s flying rust heaps and made him fly back across the ocean to the sunburnt land from which he had quivering fled.

My mate the Jackal’s a doctor, and a man of extremely high morals and principles, but I sleep certain in the knowledge that if faced with the choice between upholding his principles and visiting me in Woodford Jail every Saturday for the next 20 years, or telling a wee little porkie pie and meeting me for lunch at the Geebung RSL prior to the first at the Pankhurst gallops for the next couple of decades, the good and decent man would choose the latter, despite the many sleepless nights such a minor sin may cause his hitherto as clean as a baby’s bum conscience.

So I’m sure that Georgie Boy didn’t for a moment doubt that Professor Pat – the personal physician of his close mate and Protector Pope Benny – would do the right thing and declare him a ragged wreck with a fart for a heart, who couldn’t get on a jet if his ascent to the pearly gates depended on it. 

Of course the Cardinal Sinner was spot on the money – lucre being his true love and passion – and thus the bloke who declared the birth of a healthy kid a miracle of such epic proportion that a dead rabid right-wing Pope should be made a saint in celebration of his posthumous deeds decided without question to do the dirty deed, and declared that the profunder from down under was a flight risk who was unfit for any chore other than to leisurely reconcile the church’s ill-gotten rotten riches.


And our man Justice Peter Mac copped the mendacious medical practitioner’s worship-inspired word sweet, and rather than call for the obligatory independent medical assessment that the average mug punter would be flicked to faster than you could say John Paul the Sixth, the Royal Commission head set the sinner freethe Royal Commission head set the sinner free, and that’s the last we’ll ever see of the consummate con-man and crim Georgie Boy Pell in the Great Southern Land.

Good riddance to the bastard too I’d say in usual circumstances, but his retreat to the safety of the Holy See sanctum and his hiding behind the walls of the Vatican and diplomatic immunity leaves a bad taste in every victim’s mouth, my own included.

George has escaped justice, for now at least, but as any bugger who’s Mum forced him to attend Sunday School in Geebung knows, the flames of eternal hell await those who spit in the face of the Lord. And the Cardinal Sinner has given the Christ a gobful.

But an express train to Hell is just waiting for Pell at the station, and one day he’ll be hopping in the first-class carriage and making the slow dip down to the River Styx, and Professor Pat will be there by his side as his vestments suddenly catch aflame and they both become engulfed in the bonfire of their vanities and their sins; and the pair can push the emergency button as many times as they goddamn like, but their eternal sins and their just desserts they can never escape.

And don’t you worry about that.