A man was struck by a bus on a busy city street. As he lay dying, a crowd gathered around him. "A priest! Somebody fetch me a priest!" gasped the dying man. A policeman checked the crowd, but there was no priest, minister or man of God of any kind. "A priest, please!" the dying man repeated. Then out of the crowd stepped a little old man. "Officer," he said, "I'm not a priest, I'm not even a Catholic, but for the past forty-two years I have lived behind St Mary's Catholic Church, and every night I overhear the Catholic litany. Perhaps I can be of some comfort to this poor man." The policeman thought it was a good idea and took the old man over to where the accident victim lay dying. The pensioner knelt down gingerly, leant over the man and announced in a solemn voice: "One little duck, number two; doctor's orders, number nine; two fat ladies, eighty-eight . . ."