#196787 - “She means technically,” the Vicar said helpfully, “So there is a lot to organise, flowers, bells, choir,” “That’s bollocks is that,” Lucy says, “No flowers, no bells, no choir, no bloody fancy dresses, just call the Banns, marry us part way through morning service and then us can get started on a son and heir for Daddy, I mean for Henry. ” I found a golden guinea, “Here thee are then,” I says as I handed it to her, “Get thee kit off. Vicar bloody near had a fit, “But she’s your daughter!” he whined.
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