Something Amusing

Here are some notes I made while I watched the rugby yesterday for my slightly amusing item at the church harvest supper. A few in "jokes". You have to imagine something in the style of Wodehouse. I emphasise imagine. I ad libbed a bit and was able to get my revenge for some of the other items that had mentioned the new curate. The Curate will not cure-it, at least not necessarily: he isn't making any promises.


Well, thanks to the warm up acts.

Unaccustomed as I am to public speaking, [I'm not sure why I think that should be funny. Perhaps someone could explain it to me afterwards]

My lords, ladies and gentlemen, Father, Your Reverence, my Lord Bishop [I think that covers everyone? I wasnt so sure about the Gentleman bit]

I’d like to tell you a story.

So if you’re sitting comfortably, I’ll begin. [Not too comfortably. I thought I saw Father Cheeseman nod off earlier, so if you could give him a poke].

Dont worry: this wont be as long as one of John's sermons.

I’d just like to stress that any resemblance to any people living or dead is purely co-incidental.

Names and places have been changed to protect the innocent.

The hero of our story is Rev’d Martin Floyd,

The handsome, witty, elegant, modest, new, young curate of St Ethelbergers without the Wardrobe, Westbourne.

(You may notice some autobiographical themes in this literary masterpiece!)

Our hero was delighted to be invited to the church Harvest Supper.

He thanked the good people of St Ethelbergers, but declined their soiree, since he, and his even younger, beautiful, talented, heavily-pregnant wife, were away on holiday that day, and besides, Wales were playing Fiji that afternoon, (…. Sorry to mention that for any Welsh fans in tonight…. Emotional. I’ve got no nails left. Depression. This would have been much funnier if I hadn’t had to watch TV by the way…). and besides, the young curate would never willingly miss Saturday Night I’m A Celebrity X Factor Strictly Come Dancing Ballroom Take Away Get Me Out of Here.

Then came the importunate ring at the curettage door bell.

It was Mrs Sylvia Most-Bright, the formidable church warden of St Ethelbergers.

She made it quite clear to Rev’d Martin that his invite was not a suggestion: it was a summons.

The much loved former curate, Wayne Elvis Presley had stolen the hearts of more than one eligible senior member of St Ethelbergers with his moves.

Even the hard-working Revd Jerry Hobdaughter, our feckless hero’s predecessor, had attended the Harvest Supper.

And so, Rev’d Martin dashed back from his holiday retreat and poured himself into his best togs.

But at said Harvest Supper, Rev’d Martin found himself in a state of abject terror.

You see, Mrs Most-Bright had made it clear to our hero that not only was he required to attend the Harvest Supper, if he wanted to receive his stipend, he’d jolly well do Something Amusing.

Our fearless, foolish hero had breezily told them to put The Curate down on the Batting Order for Something Amusing, until he discovered quite what he’d let himself in for.

You see, the Blind Date Harvest Supper had become infamous in the folk-lore of St Ethelbergers, Westbourne.

The Long-Standing parishioners swore that they had witnessed it with their own eyes.

Their conservative evangelical Bible preaching Vicar, Rev’d J. Ham-lady, had once undergone the most amazing transformation.

The Vicar had stolen his wife, Felicity’s largest Trouser Suit and spouted the catch-phrases of popular television personality, Priscilla White.

Beautiful relationships had been formed.

Hearts had been broken.

How could he follow such antics?

Our hero was terrified.

There was no way he would fit into his wife’s clothing, not even into her maternity wear.

How would he now fulfil his rash promise of Something Amusing?

Rev’d Martin’s amusing item had actually involved more expense, study, preparation, anxiety and sleepless nights than all of his sermons put together!

Revd Martin hoped that the good parishioners might laugh at some of his mildly witty lines.

That if they couldn’t laugh with him, perhaps they would laugh at him.

Someone with an amusing bray must surely take pity on him and set the others off.

Perhaps they could simply imagine the funniest thing they’d ever seen, and laugh at that.

Mrs Floyd secretly hoped they wouldn’t laugh too much.

Would she ever hear the end of it if her humble husband was a hit?

Would the good parishioners ever be allowed to leave if our hero was encouraged by a sympathetic titter?

Our hero thought to fall back on his one true talent: music.

Perhaps he could sing for his supper?

After all, Rev’d Hamlady had often commented what a delight it was to sit next to our hero at the front of church, in front of everyone, and enjoy his unique singing voice.

Mrs Most-Bright had also been over-heard to suggest to some of the senior members of the PCC that if they needed to clear out the hall of lingering parishioners at the end of the evening, they could always call upon Rev’d Martin for a rousing chorus of Men of Harlech.

Some of the congregation were at least deaf, so they might be convinced.

But no, for our hero, it was to be his first love, the piano.

Well, not exactly the piano, more the electric keyboard.

But he decided not to make it too brilliant, so as not to show up his wife.

After all, the piano was meant to be her forte. (subtle: piano forte)

Please will you excuse me just a moment….

Ladies and Gentlemen: Will you please welcome our hero, the Rev’d Martin Floyd:

For your entertainment tonight,

A very personal composition - My over variation – on a theme by Mozart – influenced by a French folk tune.

Just to show I’m not a one trick pony!

(Perhaps I should stick to preaching)

Come back tomorrow for more hilarious anecdotes!

Thank you!

* * *

Our hero decided to fall back on his secret weapon: plagiarism.