The two are not necessarily mutually exclusive of course . But distinguishing novel insight from utter bollocks has, from time to time, been tricky
By coincidence my topological mate and his wife owned a property in rural southern France for a while. We had a few holidays there. The Bogdanovs lived in the nearby chateau that once controlled the entire area.
“Bless me Father, for I have sinned. I have been with a loose girl.”
The priest asks “Is that you, little Joey Pagano?”
“Yes, father, it is.”
“And who was the girl you were with?”
“I cannot tell you, Father. I don’t want to sully her reputation.”
“Well Joey, I’m sure to find out sooner or later, so you may as well tell me now. Was it Tina Minetti?”
“I cannot say.”
“Was it Teresa Mazzarelli?”
“I’ll never tell.”
“Was it Nina Capelli?”
“I’m sorry, Father, but I cannot name her.”
“Was it Cathy Pirano?”
“My lips are sealed. It is a secret I shall carry forever.”
“Was it Rosa DiAngelo, then?”
“Please, Father! I cannot tell you!”
The priest sighs in frustration. “You’re very tight-lipped, and I admire your loyalty. But you have sinned and you must atone. You cannot be an altar boy for 4 months. Now leave, and behave better in future.”
Joey walks back to his pew, head held high. His friend Franco slides across and whispers “What’d you get?”