"And is this your card?"
"No." I replied firmly. There was no point lying - the card brandished in face was a 7 of hearts, and I'd picked Death. The manic figure in front of me didn't seem affected by his magical failure. In fact, he continued happily:
"Well, for my next trick, I need to borrow your watch!"
I tried, I really tried, to hide my watch, but he wrestled it from my wrist and hid it in a bag. Performing something actually akin to magic, he produced a large hammer from a small packet, and repeatedly struck the bag with my watch...
"Tom... is this necessary? People are looking..." I pleaded hopelessly.
He continued, hitting the bag over and over. Then, in front of the disapproving audience gathered around us, he emptied the bag onto a pew. Several squashed oranges fell out, feebly attempting to roll on the uneven surface.
I looked at the Vicar. He, too, was looking at me. Over his glasses, disapprovingly. I smiled apologetically. My wedding day was not turning out like I'd planned. Not one bit.