“Not everyone warms to the sight
of a priest at a party,” said Father

Brown, “but I never let it keep me
from a rum punch.” When he heard

the words, he understood them im-
mediately. Announcing oneself to

be a member of the clergy is invariab-
ly a conversation killer whether

answering the inevitable question of
one’s occupation while sitting in the

hot tub by the condo pool without
most of one’s clothes not to mention

one’s clerical collar or like Father
Brown in full clerical splendor stand-

ing among party goers where no quest-
ions are forthcoming concerning

vocations. Sometimes the silence
seems eternally deafening until the

good priest or pastor asks for a single
malt Highland Scotch neat and party

goers breathe a sigh of relief and
begin telling jokes of all sorts.