Casualty departments across Britain were reported to be overstretched beyond breaking point by the fallout from the tragic deathbed wedding of a foul-mouthed racist with cancer and a vicious brute, said haggard hospital doctors.
Car parks and reception areas were turned into emergency triage units and long-retired nurses were dragged from their residential homes in order to process the vast numbers who had literally cried their eyes, tear ducts, sinuses and frontal lobes out watching the saddest, bravest, most tasteful event in the history of civilisation.
Strong security was in evidence at the Essex hotel where the wedding was due to take place, with Apache attack helicopters hovering overhead and machine-gun emplacements strategically placed to keep out journalists who had not thrown sufficiently large bundles of cash at the couple.
Convicted thug Jack Twatt arrived first, staggering obliviously through the minefield laid earlier by Max Clifford, resplendent in his groom's outfit of white bra and g-string, and pausing poignantly from time to time to heave up the remains of several gallons of vodka. After he had given the traditional interviews to (and taken several drunken swings at) journalists from OFUK! magazine and Dying TV, blushing bride-to-be Jade Baddy's majestic life-support hearse was ceremonially led through the mined approach road by a team of army sappers in full dress uniform.
Attached to several drips and an array of monitoring equipment, Ms Baddy was wheeled out on a gurney, resplendent in a pale blue hospital gown. She was then pumped full of morphine before being wheeled down the makeshift aisle next to her staggering, retching groom to the lilting accompaniment of Amy Wino drunkenly slurring her way through 'Things Can Only Get Better'.
The ceremony was tactfully led by Graham Norton, reprising his role as Father Noel. In order to minimise the risk of Ms Baddy expiring before the wedding was over, the vows were restricted to "Do you? Eh? Mmm, of course you do!" - to which Mr Twatt movingly replied "Woteva" and Ms Baddy flashed a single light on her console. The couple were then hauled away by stewards and paramedics to place their thumbprints in the register, while the star-studded congregation - including Vernon Cole, Nasty Nick, Kerry Katona, Simon Cowell, Sharon Osbourne, Peaches Geldof and Wayne and Waynetta Rooney - mouthed the words to Abba's ever-popular 'Super Trouper'.
Straight after the ceremony, Justice Minister Jack Straw officially handed Mr Twatt a signed letter from Gordon Brown, graciously permitting him to avoid his probation curfew for one night.
Tearjerking letters of heartfelt congratulation were then solemnly read out by Sir Trevor Macdonald, sent by wellwishers including the Queen, the Pope, the Dalai Lama, Barack Obama, Bob Geldof, Alexandra Burke, Davina, Brucie, Jack 'The Hat' McVitie, Osama bin-Laden, and the Yorkshire Ripper. In a particularly moving tribute, Russell Brand and Jonathan Ross expressed the desire to fight each other to the death over who would have the honour of being the first to have necrophilic intercourse with Mrs Twatt after she died.
The blessed couple were then pushed out into the grounds and onto a floodlit platform, where the semi-comatose Mr Twatt made a half-hearted attempt to mount his moribund bride for the benefit of the watching TV cameras without knocking any of the various life-prolonging tubes and sensors off her pain-wracked body.
The proud husband and wife then spent the rest of their special night with journalists, where the croaking bride reiterated her brave, dignified determination to go through with the futile travesty of a wedding in order to raise public awareness of the virtually unheard-of condition known as cancer, previously known only to top medical experts through a handful of isolated cases.
"Jade's juss so fucken brave, y'now wot om sayen?" sobbed one fan with tears and eyeballs rolling down her cheeks, as she waited to have her eyes spooned back into their sockets by hard-pressed staff at one London hospital. "She bin like a muvva ta me, an' a sista, an' a bes' friend like, all rolled inta wun. Respeck. Y'now wot ah fink, like? If every fucka cud be like Jade, yeh, the world wud be a betta place innit. Even that Paki caah, y'know, Shitty Poppadum or woteva, she forgived 'er - only like she juss cuddent make it to the weddin' at shawt notice an' all, cos she wuz like painten 'er nails or putten a spot on 'er forrid or summink."
One callous bastard, however, heartlessly suggested that if Ms Goody had really wanted to ensure the best possible future for her two children, then perhaps she should have had her fanny sewn up before she ever got pregnant in the first place. He was swiftly cornered and torn to pieces by a baying crowd of blind chavs, and serve the evil fucker right.
