The Toilets of the Albert Hall

I am the scarlet pimpanelle of London's toilets. I'm marrying Henry Packer. No! No daughter of mine. But, Daddy, look at the walls of our downstairs toilet. There's already a framed photograph of the two of you married. He's standing behind my back and you've got married by what... It looks like you were married in... That's right, Dad. The toilets of the Albert Hall. LAUGHTER Married by the toilet attendant, by the most high-ranking toilet attendant in Britain. If anyone knows of any reason why these two may not be married, speak now. Flush now. Yay! That's just someone using the hand