The Marriage of Joe Bloggs and the Fat Lady

The Ceremony

The h2g2 Chapel of Chimes is an unusual.. place. The first thing most people notice is that it is very small. At least on the outside. The inside never seems the same from one visit to the next, and often easily accommodates literally thousands of visitors. But the strangest thing about the h2g2 Chapel of Chimes is Padre Theodore, (well, no it's not, but no one believes what the strangest thing really is)

Very many people consider the Chapel Organist to be rather odd, as well, and for very good reason. However, a recent survey confirmed that most agree the Padre is definitely weird. It isn't just that he bears a striking resemblance to a large, stuffed child's toy, but his eyes seem to move independently, so his gaze is disconcertingly ambiguous

The Padre: *Rushes forward to greet Joe Bloggs and the Fat Lady as they emerge, respectively, from the back of a Patrol Car and a lorry*


'My dear friends, this is such a happy day for both of you, I'm sure. Why, I don't recall ever seeing such a handsome bride and groom! Mr. Bloggs.. may I call you Joe? Joe, you look simply marvelous in that... formal....
jumper, is it? And Miss Lady... may I call you, er, Fat? Well, no, perhaps not. But that is a very beautiful, um, robe, is it? you are wearing. Quite, um, simple lines, uncomplicated. Is it made from real banana leaves? From where? Bora-Bora, you say? It is? Well... that's.. amazing! No, really. Very creative, I'm sure

Miss Tipple, our organist, will now play the 'Prelude'.. *Shouts* Oh, Miss Tipple... Are you with us, Miss Tipple? Now, you haven't been into the sacramental wine again, have you? Padre Teddy will get angry with you...

Miss Tipple: *Falls off bench, nose first into the pipe organ keyboard, which protests with a blast of discordant sound. Tipple vigorously launches into the opening bar of the Battle Hymn of the Republic*

The Padre:*Very annoyed* Miss Tipple.. MISS Tipple.... the 'Prelude', if you please! NOW!

*to Bloggs and Fat Lady*'Ahem, Joe, would you please go with your best man, er, men and Fa.. , er, I mean, Miss Lady, would you please go with your bridesmaids. Then we can give the ushers time to seat the guests

Miss Tipple*now somewhat drunkenly begins playing Beethoven's 9th Symphony Main Theme (aka Ode to Joy)*

The Fat Lady, giggling, is escorted to the anteroom of the Chapel, by her lovely bridesmaids, whose also appear to be repressing their laughter.

Bloggs is escorted by the Big Cop and the Little Cop, both of whom are making no effort to conceal their merriment. Bloggs' eyes are darting about, and from time to time he jerks and twitches, as though struggling with unseen bonds.

Meanwhile, Guests wander in, and out, and some even sign the guest book

The Bride's parents arrive. Mr. Lady is a small, nervous man. His thin shoulders are permanently hunched up around his ears, and his nails appear to be chewed to the quick

Mrs. Lady is... large. If the daughter is plump, the mother is prodigious. Even the Padre seems a bit shaken. Mrs. Lady heaves herself onto one of the massive pews. The bench emits an outraged groan, but the stout oak withstands the stress.

Mrs. Lady smiles, broadly, her sparkling gaze never leaving Bloggs' face for a second

When Bloggs, who has never met the Fat Lady's parents, catches sight of them, he visibly flinches, and redoubles his efforts to escape his invisible chains

The Padre:*Nods to Miss Tipple*

Miss Tipple:*Pulls out all the stops, causing the poor instrument to shudder with the strain, and the guests to clap hands over their ears, launches into an almost unrecognisable version of the 'Wedding March'*

The Fat Lady: *Waddles triumphantly down the aisle, making no attempt whatsoever to keep in step with Miss Tipple's enthusiastic efforts, which would be quite impossible anyway*

Bloggs: *Closes his eyes, and appears to be holding his breath. His face turns quite purple*

Big Cop: Steady on, Bloggs.

Little Cop: Yeah, don't make us Mace you again. You want to be nice and lively for the honeymoon! *Laughs evilly*

They drag Bloggs beside the Fat Lady, and stand there, one on each side, propping him up

The Padre: My dear friends. We are gathered here today, in the presence of the Great Goo, in order that these two, er, lovely, er, young people may be forever joined in the Sacred Bonds of Matrimony

I say, chaps, don't let him fall! Where was I? Oh. Yes.

If anyone here knows of a reason why these two should not be married, let him or her speak now or forever hold his or her peace..

What? Did someone...?

Really, Joe, I wish you wouldn't kid around like that. It's unseemly. This is a serious matter! For heaven's sake, man, breathe!


Where was I? Oh. Yes. Where is the Ring Bearer? Ah, Ring Bearer, there you are! I was told you might show up at any time. But since any time is always in time here, there's no time like the present. Do you have the ring?

*Offers ring to Bloggs, whose hand twitches, then inches toward the ring, jerking back and from side to side, as if it were the hand of a marionette, controlled by an invisible, unbreakable thread. As soon as Bloggs touches the ring, the Fat Lady snatches it, jams it on her finger, and leers widely at Bloggs, who visibly wilts*

The Padre, (continues): What the Great Goo has joined together, let no man put asunder. I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride. Oh dear! I told you two not to let him fall!

Miss Tipple: *Starts to play the recessional, but the unfortunately over stressed instrument's bellows give out, with a strangely beautiful harmonic last gasp*

Mrs. Joe Bloggs, nee the Fat Lady*Wrapping plump, powerful fingers around her husband's arm, drags him from the support of the cops to whom he tries desperately to cling, and hustles him out of the Chapel. On the steps, she stops, hoists the hem of her banana-leaf gown, preparatory to tossing her coconut fibre garter


There is a horrified gasp from the well-wishers, and a stampede of unmarried men trampling one another to get as far away as possible. One older fellow faints dead away*

The hydraulic platform lifts Mr. and Mrs. J Bloggs into the back of the wedding lorry. The Big and the Little Cops close and padlock the lorry doors, which regrettably fail to muffle the unearthly, blood-curdling shrieks issuing from within as the vehicle moves off

Big Cop: *Turning greenish* That sounded like...

Little Cop: *Shakily* Yes, partner, that was the Fat Lady... singing

The Padre: My friends, I was asked to tell you that you are all invited to the party, to be held at the Blue Gooey Duck Pub and, er, Common Bawdy House