These are the words of a dying man. No, they are not the words of Christopher Eccleston in Cracker, as he is now the new Doctor Who, praise be unto Him who art unto Him.

These are the words of a dying man. I bless you. I bless you with praise and glory. I praise you for your great glory in being blessed by this glorious praise and...and glory that is blessed by Him in its glorious Amen. Thank you, thank you. Take care.

Tributes - such as this haunting image of a frail Pope waving to the crowds from his hospital bed,  sketched in Fair Trade  crayon by a deeply religious Latin American orphan and cancer sufferer - have been pouring in from all over His world this week.

These are the words of a dying man. How are Poland doing in the World Cup qualifiers?

These are the words of a dying man. I have done this fucking job since 1978. I have travelled to more places in the world and have spoken to more people than any other pontiff in the history of the Roman Catholic Church. And what fucking thanks do I get? What thanks does fucking He get?

These are the words of a dying man. Yes, OK. I studied for the priesthood during the Nazi occupation of Poland. We cannot choose where we are born, now, can we? It’s not my fucking fault, is it?

These are the words of a dying man. My mother died before I was nine. Luckily, He was there to explain things to me, as my father was off doing fuck knows what, exterminating Jews probably, at the time.

Rev. Iain Paisley:  "He was a worthy opponent! But I will say THIS...!' 

These are the words of a dying man. Many years ago I was a gregarious young man with a hard-on who loved skiing, hiking, mountain-climbing, swimming, oral sex and kayaking. I became a superb linguist, fluently speaking 11 languages. People thought I was fucking hilarious!

These are the words of a dying man. Don’t get me wrong, I beseech you. I have loved being Pope, it’s really been great and I would not have missed it for the world. I would sound a note of caution, however. There is such a thing as accidental masturbation, through the will of Him who has most gloriously let us off, otherwise nothing would ever have got done!

Reflections From My Moral Lung, by The Pope.

These are the words of a dying man. I would like to ask all the churches of the world to unite in my last wish before they take away my feeding tube and let me starve to death over two weeks with dignity, and this is the wish.

This is the solemn wish of a dying man. As usual in these matters, it is in Latin and in 10 Parts, but the executive summary is: Get Palestine in the Eurovision Song Contest.

Here is my 10-Point Petition for my wish to come true live on

1. Can we all please make up our fucking minds whether Israel is in Europe or, as seems more likely, in the Middle East.
2. As Israel is in the Middle East, and as it surrounds Palestine, I, the Pope demand that Palestine take part in the Eurovision Song Contest, too.
3. And don’t fucking tell me that the Palestine Broadcasting Corporation is currently only an ‘Approved Participant’ of the European Broadcasting Union and that it needs to be an ‘Active Member’ or whatever the fuck to take part in Eurovision. Kiss my Papal arse right in the Papal crack.
4. If it’s a question of the fee, I am sure we could all have a whip round to get Palestine in the Eurovision Song Contest. Here, I’ll bung in $7 billion of my own money as a gesture of goodwill as I'm a bit of a saucy cunt.
5. Don’t let Lebanon back in, either. The dimwitted fuckers confirmed their entry last December, and have only just realised Israel’s in it! And they’re supposed to be at war with them! Fucking idiots, let them sulk.
6. No wonder Lebanon’s prime minister was blown up by Syrians. Syria’s not in the Eurovision Song Contest!
7. Hope this is making sense so far. May He bless and glorify this morphine, which I must say is very welcome. I wonder what’s for dinner?
8. Having Palestine in Eurovision would also make it more ‘Arab Street’, by starting a ‘musical beef’ with Israel. It would also challenge the current parlous fucking state of Israeli popular music, which seems to be mostly wispy Zionist hip-hop, or acoustic ballads about a desert cactus sung by some bleating old fucker who sounds like he’s just given up smoking.
9. Get Palestine in Eurovision. This is the ninth point.
10. My vision swims with tears. Please, I beg you, sign my Last Petition below. I confirm I am the Pope.