Mr Under-Secretary Screwtape felt confused. He savoured the liqueur in his glass ... was it Annibale Bugnini blended with Jimmy Saville? Or Augustin Bea with fine aftertastes of Freddy Ayer? The concoction was, in either case, superb; but he had an uneasy feeling that the failure of his palate to make those really precise distinctions ... a malady he felt all too often nowadays ... might be the first sign of that disintegration, that dissolution, which he had always known he would ultimately experience. But so soon? After so few millennia? When he felt still at the height of his powers?
He was woken from his reveries by the grating voice of his most detested nephew, Wormwood. "Uncle! Wake up! Uncle! Isn't it marvellous news? Oh the Sucker! That Bergoglio should fall for it! Hook line and sinker! The glorious, glorious wonderful Sucker! Uncle!! Wake up!".
It had been a great mistake to allow this callow junior tempter to be elected to Club membership; too late, however to complain about that now. Screwtape opened one eye. "Bergoglio is the Vicar of the Enemy ... it is indecorous; it lowers our own dignity to speak so disrespectfully about him. And ..." (somewhat mendaciously he added) "I have no idea what 'sucker' means". "It means he's gullible" yelped the horrible infant. "I just can't think how he can be simpleton enough to have been taken in by such nonsense as that! Haven't you read Adulterii laetitia?"
Again, the old gentledevil winced. Such obvious, such adolescent humour. No style. No finesse. A put-down had become necessary. "If you stop shouting silly jargon and jolting my arm and spilling my drink and making childish jokes I will tell you precisely how the trick was worked. And I strongly advise you to avoid coarse human slang ... you have been in trouble about that before ... Our Father Below regards the adoption of human linguistic cant as a sign that a Tempter is going native ... we must always remember to put and to maintain a proper distance between ourselves and our patients."