You may remember that in my last sermon I touched upon contributions towards the church roof restoration fund. I am sure you were all inspired by my homily, yet I would point out with regard to what appeared in the collection plate that Monopoly money is not legal tender, nor is money issued by the Bank of Toytown (Noddy and Big Ears, Proprietors). There is nothing particularly humorous about wrapping a piece of chewed gum in tinfoil to make it look like a coin. I was, however, pleased to receive the I.O.U.. for £500 and I hope the donor, Mr Bugs Bunny, will be able to pay up promptly.
Now to my next project. I feel it is time the Irish were converted. For too long this barbarous nation has had the gall to live near a respectable country like England and has been allowed to wallow in grot and Guinness. Their unkempt and scruffy speaker whom they send over to Weird Weekend surely epitomises their need for conversion to wholesome well-washed Anglo-Saxon Protestantism. I am therefore sending my curate, the Reverend Richard Freeman, to spread the message on the yonder side of the Irish Sea.
I now turn to one of the most pressing theological questions of today: Dendrogamy. Should Christians be allowed to marry trees? I feel the answer is yes, because it would be branching out. It does not mean I bough down to radical opinions. I do not intend to end up out on a limb, but rather to take a leaf out of the radicals' book. I myself, when young, developed an attachment to a fetching little sycamore, but that is another story.
Finally, I want you all to open your Bibles and read the Prophecy of Habbakuk. I can't remember what's in it, but my throat has gone dry so I can't be ar---- I mean bothered to preach any more. While you read, I shall quietly lubricate my larynx with this bottle of vodka I keep in the pulpit for just such emergencies.
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