WELL, well, what's going on in Darlington then? It's only eight years since the Bishop of London asked me to become Rector of St Michael's in the City of London.

I was a country parson in Yorkshire at the time and I remember the half-jokey warnings dished out to me by all my friends in the North: "By gum, so you're off to the sinful city, eh? You'll have to watch yourself there - they get up to all sorts of funny business!" But now, where's the funny business going on? Suddenly the papers are full of SEX SLAVERY CULT IN DARLINGTON and there's talk of domination and chains and heaven knows what else.

Here in London, by contrast, the most exciting thing I've come across is a plate of jellied eels behind Islington market. It's interesting to note that - in the London newspapers anyway - the aspect of the Darlington sex cult that raised most indignation was the "slavery" bit. Now I speak as one who does the main part of the shopping, at least half the cooking and my share of washing up, but I wouldn't call myself a domestic slave. I actually enjoy it.

But I gather the women in the Darlington slave trade provide other sorts of services too.

There have been more jokes about it down here than we had even over Mr Prescott - and I expect you've got even better jokes in Darlington. But there's a serious point and it's this: the whole issue - apart from any possible criminal or illegal aspect - surely devolves upon whether the women are doing what they do consentingly. It is possible to opt to obey you know. I can give healthy examples of this. Last Saturday, we had a lovely wedding at St Michael's: choir, bells, white dress, veil, posh reception at the historic hall of the Worshipful Company of Drapers - the lot. We get about 20 weddings a year and all of them are conducted according to The Book of Common Prayer (1662) which is still the official service book for the Church of England, despite 40 years of the bishops and synod trying to get rid of it. Of course we use the real Prayer Book! You didn't think a down-to-earth Yorkshireman like me would ever use the naff and sentimental modern service - with its sickly, soppy prayers such as "Let them be tender with each other's dreams". And that's the beauty of the old book: it is direct and down to earth. No messing about. Words of one syllable: "With this ring I thee wed".

There are two parts of the old wedding service which are particularly moving. One when the bride promises to "love, cherish and to obey". And they all say "obey" at our church. Then there's the astonishing promise she gets from the groom in return when he says at the chancel steps: "With my body I thee worship."

That's telling it as it is, eh? Forget all the corny jokes about the church and the parson being against sex. The Prayer Book is full of it. The old, real wedding service - beware of imitations - leaves us in no doubt as to the purpose of marriage: it is for the physical love between husband and wife and the procreation of children.

And you know what? Most of the couples who have come to St Michael's to be married over these last eight years did not merely choose our lovely old Christopher Wren building for the sake of the photos. They have stayed with the church. They attend on Sundays and they bring their babies to be christened. They do it out of obedience to something greater than themselves. Of course, I'm 250 miles from Darlington and that sort of obedience may not be what's going on in your neck of the woods at all.