As Rupert Murdoch announces plans to marry for the 5th time, our resident Imposter-In-Chief CHRIS TAYLOR imagines what the Order Or Service and the Wedding Vows might look like.
Order of Service
The arrival of the bridal party.
The bride apologizes for not looking more like Rebekah Brooks.
The Fox & Friends theme.
The traditional denial by the family that they ever watch Succession.
Corinthians 1:13, rewritten to replace all references to God with references to Rupert.
A selection from the Herald Sun letters page, decrying Daniel Andrews.
The bride and groom exchange rings and discuss stock options.
The ceremonial signing of the register, the pre-nup and the 400-page non-disclosure agreement.
Piers Morgan lies prostrate at the feet of the groom, repeatedly kissing his shoes until he becomes distracted by something new that Meghan Markle has done.
The Final Blessing
The official injection of the Viagra.
The Wedding Vows
I, Ann Lesley Smith, take you, Keith Rupert Murdoch to be my extremely wealthy husband (not that money matters to me in the slightest; in fact, I didn’t even know you had money when I met you – I just fell in love with the person, I swear.) I promise to not find the prospect of sharing a bed with a 92-year-old human prune to be repulsive in any way. I also promise to reassure you every morning that The Australian is a really good, important newspaper, even though nobody reads it. And, most of all, I promise to never object when you want to hack my phone. I make this solemn vow, before God, and on the strong recommendation of my financial advisers, to have and to hold, from this day forward, till death to us part… which I’m banking everything on being very, very soon.
I, Keith Rupert Murdoch, take you Ann Lesley Smith, to be my latest in a long string of wives. (But I’m feeling really good about this one. I was too immature in my previous marriages. But at 92, I think I’m finally mature enough to settle down properly.) I promise to tell you every morning how much I love and respect you, just like I told Donald Trump, even though it was palpably untrue. I promise to never leave too many Joe Hildebrand columns lying around the house in plain sight. And I promise to never leave you alone at cocktail receptions with my son James, in case he starts going on about “warming” or some such. I make this solemn vow, before the shareholders, to have and to hold, from this day forward, till death to us part… which, I’m sorry to tell you, is still a couple of decades away, according to the agreed plan with Satan.