One Wedding, No Funeral And No Shit Screenplays From Richard Curtis

One down, one to go (and that’s just this year), but bring it on. The Great White Wedding at the weekend I was, truth be told, dreading as if it were my own, but amazingly the nuptial reality did nothing to reinforce my cynicism. Actually, I’m not too proud to say it was something approaching the very opposite. It’s true of course that before our very eyes thousands of pounds were being cremated every second on terminally ill flowers, white napkins and canapes, but the fact is no-one could smell it over the strange narcotic happy gas that enveloped the whole proceedings. So much planned and coincidental went so right from the traditional church ceremony to the following controlled-mayhem-tinged dinner/party that the Vic and his wife Bob must have felt not-just-a-little Christian smugness, and for once I could forgive them for it, even if they did lay the God on a bit thick (sort of every other word thick as it happened). I’m thinking that maybe they saw the glint in my atheist eye so felt to protect the sanctity of it all, or maybe they just caught sight of Steedo mysteriously having appeared on the front row with a tan that could only have come from being slowly toasted in the fiery depths….but of course the devil makes digression for idle minds…

So, yeah man, the booze flowed in high quality and quantity, the speeches stayed tasteful, the bride blubbed, the father blubbed (double blubble?!), the best man fought it bravely; the Sun came out, the Pimm’s went down but not down my shirt, there were mini toad-in-the-holes, chicken on sticks, and cheese, ham and melon not on sticks; the suits were sharp, the wits weren’t blunted, the girls were beautiful (even the big-nosed ones from school), and Steedo stacked it in his classic style. And I didn’t.

So with my faith restored (in weddings at least – I’ll reserve judgement on the institution of marriage, and Jimbo and Jimmy Hoffa are still out in the cold) I returned, refreshed, to work in my welcoming and airy building at my exciting and rewarding job to make a difference to the world whilst drawing my well-earned and generous salary and smiling at everyone with the gaiety of a new-born bonobo… This being Wednesday of course, it would actually be safer to treat the latter part of this paragraph as writing in opposites. Off to the fucking dry cleaners, I guess.


2 Responses

  1. Steedo says:

    Yes, I make only fleeting appearances so its nice to appear in style from a whole in the ground of a church. This is often juxtaposed by much drinking and a stackage of the highest order.(Its all been done before and was reminiscent of the Astoria one Saturday a few years ago). I am still bruised and in some pain – for avoidance of doubt this due to falling rather than visits to the Astoria on a saturday night). Awesome day. Wicked to see everyone. Groover don’t forget to email me the photos.

  2. Groover says:

    Very accurate I would say. I had a fixed grin on my face for much of the proceedings and it was for the best of reasons.

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