I was right – the elderly Peer on my left had died. A Guard of Honor from Her Majesty’s Drunken Highlanders just wheeled him out and ushered in a replacement – a charming Privy Chancellor who has already engaged those about him in a fascinating discourse on auto-erotic asphyxiation.
Initially I was a little nervous when I saw the soldiers heading my way. Growing restless, I’d earlier attempted to hurry things along by encouraging the crowd to start chanting “Why are we waiting?”, but clearly life in Merrie Olde England moves at a much slower pace than it does in Ichabod Springs. After a decidedly military looking gentleman had approached to explain that his regiment were once responsible for the hanging, drawing, and quartering of dissidents I clearly felt the Spirit calling me to quietly resume using Bishop Quinine’s iPad to search the internet for examples of sin in unbelievers’ lives.
Still, I must say that when it comes to pre-match entertainment the British certainly could learn a thing or two from the Super Bowl. Or at least have hired a few rodeo clowns to keep the crowd amused. Still, all it’ll take is one good wardrobe malfunction to make all this waiting worthwhile.
I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.