Mr and Mrs nnngff and the Time Travelling Confession Box
I went for a spin the other day in Father McCready's confession box.
The catalyst was our seventh pint of the black stuff down at our local.We were indulging in our usual friendly debate over the moral issue of the day, and on this occasion the subject was marriage.
" Marriage, " I said, " is outdated. Marriage mostly was, is, and always will be doomed to failure. Marriage is as futile and pointless as asking Naomi Campbell to give you a hand with the Sunday Times crossword. "
" Nonsense my son, " Father McCready replied. " And what's more, I shall prove that it's nonsense. Come back to the church with me and I'll prove that marriage can work in any place, at any time. "
I knew what he was referring to here. It had been rumoured for some time that Father McCready had mastered the phenomena of time travel. Furthermore, it had been said he'd overseen numerous famous marriage ceremonies, including Monroe and DiMaggio, Bogart and Bacall and er....Paul Daniels and Debbie McGee.
As we staggered back to the church, he admitted the upcoming exercise would kill two birds for him. He told me he'd always wanted to conduct the very first marriage ceremony in history, chronologically.
We took our seats in the confession box, and I watched in awe as the dial span backwards through time.... "Five thousand years".... "Ten thousand".... until it finally came to rest at " Pre-Barbara Cartland".
We stepped outside.
" Perfect! " cried McCready, " Over there. " He pointed towards a cave up ahead, standard three-bedroom semi-detached with en-suite twigs and a poorly laid driveway.
Stood at the entrance in an aggressive stance were two figures. Cro-Magnon, one male and one female. Neither of whom seemed overly happy to see us.
" Hello, " McCready called over to them, picking his way across the uneven ground. A small rock flew over his head.
" Nnngff, " replied the male, which I think translated as " Go away or I will kill you. "
I stopped at a safe distance as the Priest approached undeterred.
" Hello, my name is Father McCready, do-you-have-names? " He asked slowly.
" Nnngff, " said cavewoman.
" Nnngff, " shouted caveman.
" Marvellous, well without further ado, I shall perform the ceremony. " He removed a pink carnation from his coat pocket and placed it in the female's hair. As he strode back towards me, the nonplussed female picked the flower from her straggly hair, examined it.... and then ate it.
" Mr Nnngff, do you take Mrs Nnngff to be your lawful wedded wife? "
" Nnngff! "
" And Mrs Nnngff... " we both dodged a wooden spear, " ...do you take Mr Nnngff to be your lawful wedded husband? "
" Nnngff. "
" I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride. "
" Nnngff? " The male looked confused.
" Oh...er... " McCready pointed at his own pouting lips and then at the female.
The male grunted, picked up a rock and smashed it in his newly-wed's face. The female screamed and inspected the blood on her fingers. She then picked up the rock and smashed it in the male's tender regions.
" There you go Father, " I said. " Proof that marriage never works. They'll be filing for divorce within the hour. "
" Nonsense, " he replied as we watched the male hopping about in agony, clutching his groin. " Merely a mutual decision on their part not to have children. That was a neolithic vasectomy. "
As the 'domestic' descended into further violence, we decided to beat a hasty retreat.
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