Colm: And, now, I don't mind a bit of a breeze, if anything I prefer it, but thon was aggressive. So, I says to myself, says I, "Colm, this is no day for a do..."
Sister Michael: What's happening?
Colm: ...for, when the bride arrived and, as I say, by this stage the wind was fierce...
Sister Michael: Am I dead?
Colm: ...I've never heard wind like it.
Sister Michael: Is this my wake?
Colm: Howling like a banshee, it was.
Sister Michael: Am I in hell?
Colm: So, the poor girl, the bride now, this is, she arrives anyway and isn't she no sooner out of the car than she's lifted up in the air like a paper doll and blown into a flowerbed.
Sister Michael: That's actually quite funny.