You know the time.
Money! That was the trouble. Money! The parish was spiritually solvent but financially bankrupt. Money! The Lord will provide, but to date he was behind with his payments. Money! Father Rudden had tried everything to raise funds, he had even went to the bank. 'Don't be a fool, Father!' said the manager, 'Put that gun down.' There was the occasion he'd promised to make fire fall from heaven. The church had been packed. At the psychological moment the priest had mounted the pulpit and called loudly 'I command fire to fall from heaven!' A painful silence followed. The priest seemed uneasy. He repeated his invocation much louder, 'I COMMAND FIRE TO FALL FROM HEAVEN!' The sibilant voice of the verger came wafting hysterically from the loft. 'Just a minute, Father, the cat's pissed on the matches!'