Priest: Hi, I'd like the best fish in the shop. The Pope is coming for dinner, and I'd like to impress him.
Fishmonger: Then you'll be wanting this fucker!
Priest: Excuse me?! Such horrible language! What would the Pope think?
Fishmonger: Oh, uh... That's the fish's name. It's a fucker fish. Yeah.

The priest, believing the fishmonger's lie, walks away with an impressive halibut. He returns to the church and shows the fish to the deacon.

Priest: I've made the purchase. I think you'll find this is quite an impressive fucker.
Deacon: Excuse me?! Such horrible language! What would the Pope think?
Priest: Oh, no, that's the fish's name. It's a fucker fish.

The deacon, a little embarrassed at his apparent mistake, offers to prepare the fish for cooking. The bishop then comes in.

Bishop: I thought I might cook the fish myself.
Deacon: Go ahead, I've got the fucker prepared for you.
Priest: Excuse me?! Such horrible language! What would the Pope think?
Deacon: Oh, no, that's the fish's name. It's a fucker fish.

The bishop then cooks the fish, just in time for the Pope to arrive for dinner. He sits down with the priest, deacon and bishop, and all three immediately try to impress him.

Priest: I picked the fucker myself.
Deacon: I prepared the fucker.
Bishop: And I cooked the fucker.
Pope: ...You cunts are alright.