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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 a badly manipulated marionette, from his assumed…

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