I arrived, and was conducted to a nice box pew, it being explained that my Rolls had been spotted coming from a long way off. I was given a hymn book, and a prayer book so old that it contained prayers for King William IV.
When the Vicar turned to the congregation and intoned the words: 'Dearly Belovéd Brethren...", I realised something was up. The words were offered so slowly that each syllable acquired a new syllable. As the liturgy continued, heads began to nod. It was with joy we rose to sing 'Come, all ye faithful...' Sitting, the liturgy resumed.
The prayer for the Sovereign was read as it stood in the prayer-book. It is to be hoped that Prince William comes to the throne soon, and enjoys a long reign. That way this deplorable circumstance can be ended by judicious use of a ball-point pen.
The congregation read the responses at the same speed as the venerable cleric. It was like watching Napoleon's retreat from Moscow. Every so often someone would fall asleep, like a soldier falling, dying, into the snow.
The sermon, a half-hour discourse on the subject of Joseph, was similarly slow. So much so, in fact, that Price-Pryse-Pryce himself fell asleep during it, and had to be awakened by the clerk, when it became clear that he was not simply pausing for thought (or breath). He shouted 'Amen!' and that ended the sermon.
I took the opportunity to have an extended sleep, and was, like the rest of the congregation, woken up in time for Sunday Lunch.