Father Brown and the Incorrect Clerical Wear

"Father Brown," said Bishop Len, "I'm concerned about the reports I have been hearing."

The portly priest turned his eyes to the irate bishop. Len Brennan had, it was true, radically changed since he had been transferred from his Irish diocese. Some said that he had mellowed, once free from managing the denizens of Craggy Island. But he was still noticeable for his irascibility. And there had been that incident where Mrs McCarthy had kicked Len up the arse after losing a bet with Mrs Doyle.

"You must be wondering how I have acquired a Church of England building? I can assure you, Bishop Brennan..."

"No, no, no. I know all about the poker game with "Stinker" Pinker. Well done. Just a shame the members of the Ordinariate are so poor at cards. And the way you've managed to return an entire English village to the true Church is incredible."

"Then it must be my wearing a maniple as if it were a stole - and over the chasuble?"

"No, I understand that, Brown. Cutbacks in the BBC costume department."

"Well, a maniple would certainty be a cutback on a stole."

"I'll do the jokes, Brown. You stick to looking prim and offering to hear confessions."

"Then it must be the Braithwaite funeral? I'm afraid I was away, and..."

"All understood. Just never let Dougal..."

"Of course, Bishop Brennan. So what is your problem? Is it my scattering ashes, performing exorcisms from the wrong books or using the wrong words for confession? Or when I accidentally wandered across the diocesan border into Midsomer?"

"Not at all, Brown. All understandable in a badly produced pastiche of a series of books that were written by someone who loved and understood Mother Church. But you're a Brummie. Who thought that was a good idea? And, more to the point, you're over 6 feet tall. Chesterton clearly said you were short and portly."

Father Brown shrugged, and look confused. Walking through the 13th century vestry doorway once again he banged his head.

Why did that keep happening?