PRAGUE - The elite of Prague were out in force today to witness the nuptials of international recording star and three-time winner of the Sensitive New-age Guy of the Year Award, Paul "I-Feel-Your-Pain" James. James, 33, hails from under a rock somewhere near London, while his lovely bride is a native of Prague.
The wedding, conducted in secrecy due to the fatwah hovering over the brave poet, was a visual feast. Both bride and groom appeared in matching white robes and haloes while a choir sang one of James's own religious compositions "In Excelsis Paulo". With such a major talent at his command, James wrote his own vows, a moving testament to the epic love he bears his bride.
"I, Paul, take thee Hana, to be my biggest fan. I take you as my bride, in sickness and health or till something better comes along. I hold you to me forever, at least while we're in the same country. I take thee now Hana, forsaking most others, until death do us part or you find out what I've been up to."
All of Prague was decked out for the ceremony and the air was redolent with the smell of burning Union Jacks. As the smiling crowd looked on, the groom paid tribute to his radiant bride by singing her a heartrending song of loss, redemption and undying love called "Oops I Didn't Mean to Shag Her", which is no doubt destined to become an instant hit. This will join an already impressive body of work, James being responsible for such timeless compositions as "What's a Little Nudity Between Pals", "I Can't Believe She's Buying This" and "Did I Mention I Was Getting Married, It Must Have Slipped my Mind." A true renaissance man, James is also the author of several self-help books. Classics of the genre such as Let Me Rape Your Brain,; Memory Lapses for Fun and Profit and of course, the seminal How to Cheat on your Fiancée, Dupe Innocent Canadian Women and Still Be a Stand Up Guy have brought a ray of hope into so many lives. A fourth book, Her Roommate Wants to Nail My Head to the Floor is rumoured to be in the works. His CD-ROM, I'm Just a Wily English Bastard, has been sold out since it hit the stores. And of course, sales of the moving account of his Canadian sojourn entitled Her Friends Are Going to Cut My Balls Off If They Get Their Hands on Me have established him as a literary titan.
For those enthralled by such a majestic talent (and this reporter is one of that duo), the opportunity to see it exalted in such a moving fashion was truly an epiphany.
In an effort to avoid the paparazzi swarming the area leading to the reception hall, Mr. James walked across the surface of the Danube, tenderly helping his bride to negotiate her way over the deposits of vomitus besmirching the pavement outside the cathedral. Sadly, no photo ops were possible due to the plague of locusts and an inexplicable rain of fire.
As the happy couple swept from the church, they were pelted with rice and violent imprecations. They paused to smile lovingly at each other, no doubt looking forward to a happy fortnight of married life. They plan to honeymoon in Toronto, the scene of his most recent artistic triumph. James stated that he is anxious to show his bride all the glories of that beautiful city, vowing to revisit the places that had but recently nourished his potent Muse.
Mr. and Mrs. James plan to reside outside London, in the picturesque village of Little Smugbugger nestled in the gently rolling hills east of Upper Knickers.
Although a church spokesman said it would take time to clean up the debris caused by the bolts of lightning, masses are expected to resume once the holy water stops boiling.
