A couple of Saturdays ago I was preaching at my son Jonathan ‘s wedding in East Anglia.
Well, actually I was reading St Paul’s letter to the Corinthians, but since you don’t often get the opportunity to speak from the pulpit to a couple of hundred people who may be gagging to get to the bar I thought I’d get my money’s worth, tell a few gags, impart the odd homily, and inwardly rejoice that I was keeping the congregation from the demon alcohol.
Well, not really.
You will remember that Jesus’s first miracle was at a wedding celebration when he turned water into the finest Cabernet Sauvignon.
But what a difference a year makes.
Twelve months earlier we might have invited the divine Lauren Bacall and she may have turned up, stole the show, and taught us how all how to whistle.
My son’s granddad, Walter, was a dead ringer for Bogey, and I guess by now the two rivals for Ms Bacall’s hand will have met and come to an amicable agreement regarding who will have the first date with her in heaven.
https://youtube.googleapis.com/v/i9Ay727EYzw&source=udsIn fact if Walter loses out he will be able to save himself for Iride, still on planet earth, and still (according to her) possessing the biggest tits in the family.
Possibly, even, of all time.
Why are we so fascinated with celebrity death?
Isn’t the fact that many thousand human beings are at the point of being killed by some “Muslim” extremists in Iraq a bit more concerning?
Play it again Sam.