One day, Sam the poacher is off doing his thing in the fields, when he sees the Bishop of Ely, on his way home from a banquet, urgently looking round for a bush- any bush. Sam, seeing this, only goes and hides behind the same bush as the Bishop. Realising what the Bishop is up to, quick as a flash, he reaches into his bag, guts one of his rabbits as quick as he can, and drops the whole lot onto the great steaming pile the Bishop had left behind, trying his best to giggle as quietly as he could, and then thought no more of it, until two days later, he saw the Bishop in the pub.

He warmly greets the Bishop, saying “‘Ullo Bishop, how be you these days?”

The Bishop replies “Honestly, my son, not that well. Not that well at all”.

Sam, curious, says “Really Bishop, what happened? Everything OK?”

The Bishop paused a second, as if gathering his thoughts. “Well, my son, it’s like this, you see. I was on my way home from a banquet. A very nice banquet as it happens, a seven course type of thing with turbot, pheasant, port, all that kind of thing. Unfortunately, I was caught short. Very short. So, I had the driver pull over at the first bush he could find. So, using this bush that the Good Lord provided, I hitched up my cassock, and did what I had to do. And then, unfortunately, to my regret, I looked back, as one does”.

Sam, dumbfounded at this revelation, merely goggled. The Bishop continued:

“It was at this point I had a terrible realisation. I’d evacuated not only my bowels, but my bowels themselves. They were sat there, like a glistening pile of pink spaghetti”.

Sam, now suddenly realising, and going slightly pale, said “Really Bishop? What in God’s green Earth did you do then?”

The Bishop took a deep breath, as if to once again marshal his thoughts. He continued on. “Well, my Son, I looked, and had a terrible fright, as you might understand. I meditated for a while, and prayed. And then, with the aid of the Good Lord above and the aid of my shooting stick, I was able to shove them back in again”.