⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️½
This is a very entertaining account of the life of a young, peripatetic priest based in Liverpool, and is well-worth reading because, ultimately, it's not what you expect: well, it's certainly not what *I* expected. This is *not* a cosy, rose-tinted glasses collection of twee, whimsical tales of quirky parishioners, and slapstick events. Which isn't to say that there aren't genuinely touching moments and comedy capers in this book, as you might expect, given its title. But it's surprisingly dark, too.
One of my favourite stories is of Butler-Gaillie conducting a wake in Liverpool on a stiflingly hot day. With too many people in a too-small, curtained front room, he is leading the prayers for the dead when he realises that the smell of weed being smoked is coming into the room through an open window, and that his congregants are becoming noticeably more chilled than expected!
Another cautionary tale tells of the dangers of self-immolation when lighting the Easter Paschal candle from the fire lit for the first ceremony of Easter Day, symbolising the bringing of light from darkness.
Where the book becomes darker is when Butler-Gaillie talks about his current situation. At the time of writing it, he wasn't in a parish and was still looking for a permanent placement. He was also considering leaving the Church completely because of the cronyism he experienced when trying to find a parish in which to settle down and begin his ministry.
Fergus Butler-Gaillie writes well and doesn't sugar-coat any of his experiences, good or bad. As I said earlier, this isn't a cosy read, dealing as it does with his doubts and frustration.