Our pastor is from Wales, which means he has a great accent. And being Welsh technically doesn't explain his love of being grandiose - waving the sleeves of his Presbyterian robes from the pulpit, wearing a cape in the winter (think Sherlock Holmes), or trying to out sing every other person in a wedding party - but you take this brilliant man, give him a great accent, and throw in his personality and it's a trifecta of hystericalness at times.
This morning he was telling some tales from his recent trip to visit a sister church in Sudan. While there, he was informed on how to escape from the grip of a python, as they are known to drop from the trees and squeeze their pray to death. He told us you are to (read with a thick, punctuated Welsh accent): "Rrraise one's ahrms ais if to prahse the Lourd, ahnd ais the pythin curls his tail up with which to breahk your nohse, you bite dohwn upohn it, and suppooosedly, the pythin will slip off. Not thaht I had the chahnce to try, buht there you goh."
I feel so much safer now, knowing how to extract myself from the grip of a constrictor. I'll keep that in mind next time we're at the zoo, in case we learn of an escape from the reptile house.