“What a disaster that was. I was utterly dismayed at the thought that I might take a wrong decision and perhaps miss out on marrying the one and only unique person in the cosmos that God had selected for me, who might be a mustachioed Christian goat-herd called Brawn Hilda living on the windswept hills of Estonia. If I messed up, not only would I be condemned to a ‘second choice’ marriage, but poor old Brawn Hilda would be consigned to a dull life watching goats swanning around (maybe that should be goating around) and reading Leviticus for slaughtering tips, her only joy the sight of her country occasionally winning the Eurovision Song Contest.”