Well, the day went off without any arrests, no ambulance and dear Ruprecht Widdy St. Vitus was named. Aunt Vom and I were a little crestfallen, to tell you the truth, it was a rather stuffy affair with ridiculous bonnets and snakes-bum-in-a-sandstorm smiles. So, to water down my ascerbic tone, I’ll describe the christening in verse. And hopefully it will come out ‘nice’.

Are we not the happiest bunch,
All dressed in black and grey?
All clipped and preened and washed and plucked
For a happy, jolly day.

Aunt Bench conditioned her little beard,
And I ‘Ped-Egg-ed’ my chin.
Folly brought along a dead hedgehog,
Aunt Bench put it in the bin.

Aunt Mary Jaffa fainted at once,
Aunt Turgid read a book to some dogs.
Cousin Girda threw an absolute fit,
When she shared my bath with some frogs.

Aunt Claymore thought the whole affair seedy,
Aunt Gourd did not come at all.
‘It’s the work of the Devil’ she cried down the phone,
And fled to a hole in her hall.

I finally nicked the christening robe,
Made of stuff of which I am vexed.
It’s all lace and silk and embroidery things,
I swear to god we’ll be hexed.

We walked to the barn with the phoney priest,
A one-man-band led the way –
Playing ‘Lip Up Fatty’ on harmonica,
And an excerpt of ‘Whip-Crack-Away’.

When the childs name was first read out,
A snigger came forth from Aunt Vom.
Then Aunt Blenny spun round glaring,
So she quickly sat up with aplomb.

Then, amazed I was at the Godmother –
As Folly’s name was called out by the priest.
What possessed this lunatic pair?
To entrust her with their beast?

Uncle Truss was snivelling proudly,
And wiped his nose on his wife.
And worst of all, on their family side –
Scrofula is awfully rife.

Mrs Stiff Black Hat with her earrings,
Called for a church, with one finger jabbing.
A knife then appeared from under Vom’s skirts,
But I stopped her, I couldn’t do with a stabbing.

At the end of the day, the photo’s were done,
But we were not asked to join in.
So the black suit pious-clan gathered,
Looking like they’d all sat on a pin.

Back to my hedge for some drinkies,
And their noses turned up at the door.
They weren’t comfy in my little hovel,
With the webs and the leaves on the floor.

Stiff Black Hat doesn’t do cuckoo spit,
And ‘the hessian crackers weren’t nice’.
But the Old Earwig’s Reserve went down lovely,
And stopped them all moaning about mice.

After six dreadful hours they left,
Ruprecht happily screaming away,
His beloved moustache was shaved off,
He’d pined for it most of the day.

Thank Heavens they’re going at last,
I couldn’t be polite if they’d linger.
As their car drove off into the distance –
Us girls held up one middle finger.

(For those unfamiliar with the product, a ‘Ped-Egg’ is the cheese gratery thing you use for extra hard skin on your feet. No affiliation.)