A vicar's lot is not an easy one, especially when your parish is St Gargoyle's, where anything might happen and almost always does.
As if the arcane ways of parish existence were not trouble enough, local church life is made more colourful still by exploding thuribles, accident prone funeral directors, eighty-five year old temptresses lying in wait with the sherry for the vicar's visit, and the risk of permanent physical damage at Peedle Parva's midweek communions in January, with sub-zero temperatures and a regular attendance of two. And it doesn't help that the vicar's wife doesn't take him entirely seriously...
The hapless incumbent of the Church of England's zaniest parish lets us into the secrets of his diary. For anyone involved in the running of a local church, it will all sound horribly familiar.