The pope lands at the airport and is met by a chauffeur.
"My son," says His Holiness, "they never let me drive at the Vatican. Would you be so kind as to do an old man a favor?"
The chauffeur has horrible visions of losing his job, but says to himself "well, this is the pope. I can't really say no."
"Here are the keys, Your Holiness."
The pope climbs into the driver's seat, and tells the chauffeur to make himself comfortable in the back."
He switches on the engine, guns it, and roars out of the parking lot onto the motorway.
Ninety, 110, 150 kilometres an hour!
The chauffeur is beginning to say a Hail Mary when he hears a siren.
The pope pulls over and meekly awaits his fate.
The patrolman walks up to the limousine and is about to demand a driver's license, when he stops short and panics.
He rushes back to his car, and radios headquarters.
"Sergeant, I've just stopped someone going 150 on the motorway."
"So book him. What's the problem?"
"Well, you see, sergeant, I think he may be someone very important."
"Who is it, the mayor?"
"No, sergeant, I mean VERY important."
"The governor? The president?"
"No, sergeant. I mean REALLY important."
"Well, who is it?!"
"I think it's God, sergeant."
"God! Why do you think that?"
"Because he's got the pope as his chauffeur."
Very nice!
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