'And the last enemy is deaf.'
I did that suppressing a giggle thing but it was in my head now and the more I thought about it and its connotations - fancy picking on a deaf man - the harder it was not to laugh. I glanced around. Nobody else was giggling; nobody else seemed to have noticed. I took a deep breath and tried hard to concentrate on what the preacher was saying.
I blame it on the early start to the day. Up at 5.20 a.m. to get to Zac's to begin cooking bacon and sausages. (It was the annual joint churches Easter sunrise service on the beach followed by breakfast at Zac's.) I'm not sure how many turned up at the beach but there were fewer people than normal who came to eat after. Then it was home for an hour before going to the prison for their service. It was cold in prison too. That probably didn't help either.
But estuary English is an unfortunate accent for a preacher to have. Especially if asked to speak at a funeral or on Easter Sunday when Christ has risen from death.