Saturday, 25 August 2012

In Which I Am About to Dust Off the Wedding Suit

It’s a good day for a white wedding, as Billy Idol had it. I say that, but it’s probably going to chuck it down. The day has come and the next time I see M+C they will be husband and wife. That’s because it’s only IMMEDIATE family that are going to the service, or so I’m told. I’ve managed to behave myself at five out of six weddings, and I was only four years old for the sixth one. A coach has been laid on for all of us lesser mortals there and back, as it’s a little far from civilisation. I hear there’s a hog roast, but wouldn’t be surprised if that’s all gone by the time I get there. I wonder if M will use my idea for his speech? I say my idea, I mean Hugh Laurie’s, but let’s not split hairs. Essentially we will be getting there in time to get stupidly drunk (must remember to get some money, the bar is cash only and the nearest cashpoint is miles away). Due to being overly aware that when I dance, I look like a daddy long legs that has just been stepped on and is having an epileptic attack, I only take to the discotheque floor when there’s a great tune and I am rather drunk. I fear that only one of those will happen tonight.

M left his wedding suit in Brighton the other day, and his brother T kindly offered to keep him company for the drive there and back. T had plonked a CD on (a CD that I saw it my duty to foist upon him, T knows toss all about good albums thus far) and was happily listening to the musical stylings of one Eric Clapton when M decided that because he doesn’t love T, he should put a bit of David Guetta on. This is essentially the equivalent of me taking M’s wedding cake away and replacing it with a hot steaming turd. Hmm. Visions of disgustingly modern dance music playing and also THE FUCKING GREASE MEGAMIX WHICH FUCKING FOLLOWS ME EVERYWHERE. I suppose I shall console myself by trying to chat up M+T’s sister R, and making an utter arse of myself. I find her detached hostility rather charming. I know that if I tried the same approach I would end up dying alone, but then she is a little easier on the eye than me.

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