The wedding of a widowed osteopath marrying a biochemist. He being a first timer, an amateur ventriloquist, an amputee. Creepy Church, begat an organist, a burly lass with a grimacing face, huge bouffant hair, who wore wall to wall tartan. She entered the Church carrying a large, purple velvet goat, her music case, quite obviously?

“Conspicuously absent isn’t he?” “Oh, where’s the Groom.” “There’s a wildly held belief that the Groom should be in attendance” said a loud buffoon. Another hooray heckler boomed “There’s been a misunderstanding the Groom will not be attending today’s wedding”. “He’s swiveled on his heels, sorry heel and legged it” ironically chortled another of the Am-Dram set.

The Bride, wearing an unflattering meringue-of-a-frock, arrived to the theme music from Mission Impossible, accompanied by anticipated, yet unbridled laughter. The flush faced groom popped up, grabbing the air like badly manipulated marionette from his assumed position…