The wedding is ruined! The world is ending!

Today we got some munted news: our ceremony venue is likely to be hideous and under construction at the time we wish to be married. The whole place is getting tarted up for some world sailing championships in December and, just like a proper tart, before she spends good money artificially improving her appearance for foreign sailors, she must first wreck her body by ripping up the good bits and putting in some fake bodyscaping and artificial artwork. 

Apparently, the "minimal" construction work that would be finished in time for our wedding looks to take longer than originally planned. Who would have thought?

Do they not realise that sailors spend their lives at sea, surrounded by creaking wood, ropes and smelly drunks with hooks for hands? Any sight of dry land is glorious to a sailor's one good eye! This $250,000 (or $250, I'm not too sure) is not money well spent. Fremantle could have bought an AFL premiership with that money, which they arguably need more. 

Vicky is mighty miffed. Me, I have taken to drink. Considering that I may be considered to drink too much already, and am thus taking to drink on top of pre-exisiting heavy drinking, you can imagine our distress. 

This evening, several glasses of wine in, Vicky has started on the google to find other places in Freo that might do for a nice stop-gap ceremony at least. In a vegetable-protein-ham-substitute fisted way, I tried to help by seeing if meteorologists could predict weather nearly 3 months in advance. If the weather looks to be grand, we can get married in a park or on a nice street or something. Instead, I made a far more gruesome discovery: our wedding date is Judgement Day, which I guess, at least, makes the whole problem with slack construction workers in Fremantle "working" too slowly on an unnecessary project rather moot. 

This won't be like all those other Judgement Days that have come and gone with nary a rapturous applause, no sir. This one, allegedly, will be the culmination of all the other ones. Got that? All those other Judgement Day predictions have been correct. They were the correct date that the end of the world started, which is probably why my vegetables have failed to grow well in the garden ever since. 

I cannot say that I am rapt with the notion. 

But just in case it's wrong, or I'm not saved, can anybody recommend some good venues in Fremantle to get married at?