Danni grabbed Psycho by the shoulder and yanked. It broke the death-grip Psycho had on Mike’s throat, and positioned him to receive her knee to his solar plexus. As he doubled over gasping, she brought her elbow down on the back of his neck causing him to collapse completely.

Mike’s legs decided that it was time for him to have a rest, and he lapsed into a recumbent pose near Psycho. Danni drew one leg back into a long stance, holding one hand high and the other low. As she did so, she let out a hiss. I wasn’t sure whether this pose was in case she needed to defend herself, or if she was about to attack, but it looked impressive. It was fortunate that her clothing – which was perhaps a little light-weight for the weather – enabled her to have the range of movement necessary for preventing Mike’s untimely demise.

“And cut,” said Porker.

Al pressed a couple of buttons on the sound recording kit as Porker lowered the camera.

“How’d it look?” asked Danni.

“Spot on,” said Porker, nodding in approval.

I cleared my throat.

“Oh yeah,” said Danni, “Thanks for letting us do this.”

“And what is the title of the new single?” I asked.

“Zombie. Probably be around a month before it comes out.”

I pointed meaningfully at Mike. She gave a guilty start and began to check him over while Al and Porker continued to fuss over their equipment. That Danni was capable in the martial arts department was no surprise. After all, she was a trained dancer which – I am led to believe – is a good basis for similar activities. Such as laying out Psycho.

I regarded Psycho, noting that he was breathing in an acceptable fashion. I consider Al, Porker, Psycho and Danni to be rather like boisterous children who haven’t realised they’re adults yet. In Al and Danni’s case it is a logical consequence of their day jobs as rock stars. It is not an occupation that encourages one to mature. For Porker, while he was able to continue to support himself in a manner that did not require the intervention of Inland Revenue he was happy to play along. And Psycho hadn’t realised that he wasn’t a character from the Beano. Although if he had been a Beano character, then his speech bubbles would have been filled with punctuation marks.

Danni now had Mike lying on his back while she squatted down with his ankles resting on her shoulders. Standard treatment for fainting. Mike’s eyes opened, he stared for a moment at her Goth makeup, and scrambled away.

“As you can see,” said Porker, “My Added-Value Crypt Escape Kits work perfectly, even when the subject is disorientated.”

“Ur…,” replied Mike, appearing somewhat dazed.

“And we captured it on video, so we have proof should anyone require.”

“Ur… Yes.”

“So you have no further objections?”

Mike mutely shook his head.

“Splendid,” I said. “Now, we all really appreciate you giving up your lunch break for this exercise, but I wouldn’t want to make you late back.”

There was a chorus of comments expressing the fervent desire that Mike should not return to work from lunch late, and how grateful everyone was to him, and generally expressing the sentiment that he was a jolly decent sort. Or words to that effect.

As Mike climbed the stairs from the crypt, rubbing his throat, Danni said, “I hope you don’t mind us using the video for the new single as well.”

“I had a suspicion that you would do something like this,” I said. “In fact, more than a suspicion.”

This wasn’t entirely true. The first I had known about it was when her fish-netted knee had impacted Psycho. At that moment, the somewhat up-market audio/video equipment, Danni’s makeup and the lighting rig had all made sense.

I had two choices. I could either express outrage that they should use the church like this without my permission, or I could pretend that I knew all along. The first choice would leave me looking petty and foolish; the second meant that I would appear to be able to see through their little schemes but that I was above such mediocrities.

“How did you know?”

“Al has a habit when he’s working on a new song. He usually improvises the voluntary he plays on the organ before the service. He uses it to try out different musical themes.”

She nodded, saying, “And when he keeps coming back to the same theme, you know he’s going to write another song.”

This was a fabrication on my part, naturally, but it seemed plausible and seemed to have convinced Danni.

“The song’s going to be called Zombie. Do you think we should put an exclamation mark after the word Zombie?” she asked.

I paused for moment, as if in thought, then said, “No. Definitely no exclamation mark.”

I didn’t add that I considered exclamation marks in titles to indicate weakness of purpose on the part of the writer. She nodded, and they turned to leave.

“One thing,” I said, and they paused in their task of carrying Psycho towards the stairs. “The mess from the tomb escape. I expect it cleared up.”

The week progressed in the manner that week’s do, with a variety of vicarly duties such as hospital visits and a church council meeting. This was held at the standard time of 7:30pm – a time that appears deeply ingrained in the psyche of all churches, not just the Church of England. I believe there is some rationale along the lines of allowing people to return from work and have their dinner before devoting their time to the Church. In practice it means that many of the church council members participate little in the meeting due to the soporific effect of the evening meal. Unfortunately this does not reduce the length of such meetings; those who do participate seem to be able to make up for their companions lack of engagement by increasing their own verbiage. Such are the trials of being a vicar. Yet, by and by, we arrived at Sunday and the service to ordain Martin Day as curate in the parish of St James, Sutley.

Such services are special events, and Bishop James was leading the celebration. He’s a rather eager looking soul who has an engaging way of making you feel that you are the most important person in the room. I suspect him of intelligence. As there was still no replacement for Wendy, his previous chaplain, I would be doing the tasks that would normally be assigned to her. This largely consisted of holding his bishop’s mitre and crook when required. His only allusion to her absence was to note, “I see you’ve managed to get the blood out of the flagstones.”

I responded by saying, “Indeed.”

What can I say about the service? Stand up, sit down, sing a hymn, say a prayer. This is true of most services, and like most services, no one died. Which is always a relief.

At the end of the service, Martin stood in his robes with his new stole worn diagonally across his chest, from left shoulder to right hip, in the manner of deacons. He also held a cup of tea and a biscuit as required by tradition while trying to shake hands with well-wishers. He did this with less confidence than Bishop James or myself. Still, that was one of the skills he would learn whilst at St. James. His rather colourless wife, Liz, hovered by his side, and his two children had made themselves absent as would be expected.

Everything was going swimmingly until he met Psycho and Porker, and Al and Danni with their daughter Mary.

“Ah,” I said, “Allow me to introduce our organist, Al, Danni and Mary.” I didn’t bother to mention that Danni was Al’s wife and Mary their daughter. The way that they were stood together made it clear that they were a family. Besides, it has always seemed rather patronising to introduce a woman as “his wife”. Somehow it has always seemed to me that it diminishes the woman.

“And this is Porker, who painted our wonderful dome, and Psycho, our lay minister in training.”

Somehow, Martin seemed a little overwhelmed by this introduction, and glanced first at me, and then at Bishop James, who smiled at him, benignly. I am not sure why Martin should be overwhelmed by the sight of three Hells Angels in their leathers in church. After all, if you can’t welcome Hells Angels into church, then where can you welcome them? It is true that Porker stood a good foot taller than him, and Psycho had a rather good tattoo of the Madonna and Child on his shaven head, but that’s just people for you. They really are quite inoffensive.

At first, his ministerial indoctrination was effective, and he shook hands with each of them politely, but then he started to burble.

“Wonderful organ playing,” he said to Al, who nodded politely. Then things went rapidly downhill. “Far better than that rubbish Christmas song they recorded here. I don’t know why David allowed them to record it here. And that washed up singer! You know, they have a thing called auto-tune these days that fixes all the notes the singer gets wrong?”

Psycho turned to Porker and said, “Can I get you another cup of tea?”

“I’ll come with you to help,” replied Porker, and they both about-faced and walked quickly in the direction of the kitchen.

Behind Danni, Al was frantically waving his hands and shaking his head while mouthing, “No!” but Martin was not discouraged. Mary was grinning.

“She really should have stopped back when she was still young and with that band, what were they called? No-one Good, or something. Even if it was manufactured music.”

Normally parishioners are a fairly dull bunch, but like all herd animals they have a well-developed sense for danger and were backing away. Although then they stopped and turned to watch the entertainment from what they assumed was a safe distance. Bishop James and I glanced at each other and took a step back in unison.

“I suppose that’s why they wore the - ahem – costumes they did, to distract from…”

I’m not quite sure what Danni did. Something in the region of his collar bone or throat. He went down to his knees with a sound I can best render as “Glurk!” and fell over on his side.

Bishop James regarded him with mild interest.

Disclaimer: Learning to hold a cup of tea and a biscuit while conversing with parishioners and shaking the occasional hand is a vital skill for all members of the clergy. Like all worthwhile endeavours, it requires practice but the principle is simple. Hold the saucer in the left hand, and insert the biscuit between index and middle fingers. The right hand may then be used to raise the cup or biscuit while also being free to shake hands.