Wedding from HELL - A Pearost also from HELL
"You are cordially invited to the wedding of Uncle Pete to Brenda Grabber. Bring bottle and bird"

So, that was it. Uncle Pete (50-something) had managed to impregnate 20-year-old Brenda in an office knee-trembler, and we was forced to make a decent fat girl of her.

We arrived at the church, and were immediately struck by the barely disguised threats from both sides as he walked with her up the aisle:

"Cradle-snatcher"
"Slag"
"Dirty old man"
"Money grabber"

And so on to the reception, a hastily-arranged affair at the local youth club, complete with one-light-flashing-in-a-box disco, and a buffet lunch that was barely enough to suppress the enormous appetites of the top table.

The rest of us scrambled for the single remaining celery stick, before disappearing in dribs and drabs to Greasy Joe's chip shop round the corner.

The lights went down, and the serious business started: Wedding Disco. And it only took about ten minutes for it all to kick off.

Uncle Billy and his son Mark had turned up late, having spent the afternoon playing football. Mark had been sent off for decking the referee, and was not in much of a mood for a wedding party.

Somebody, coming back from the makeshift bar with a tray full of fizzy keg lager accidentally trod on his favourite aunt's foot. Mark refused to back down until a full, frank apology was issued for the slight, and when this was not forthcoming, he decked Man-With-Tray with his best referee-flattening haymaker.

Revenge was not slow in coming, and another punch was thrown that caught a passing granny square in the face, and it all went downhill from there.

"You fooker!" shouted granny and let fly with her handbag. It caught Uncle Billy on the nose in an eruption of blood and snot, leaving granny a fetching shade of red.

"You bitch!" shouted Uncle Billy, spraying blood and snot over everybody in a six foot radius, managing to get in a hefty kick at the handbag swinger, but only connecting with a table leg, hurling drinks across the room in a pissy yellow shower.

Then, like that famous film of the Siege of Stalingrad, the two armies came together in a rain of blows, kicks, scratches and a rain of cheap keg beer.

The disco played on. "Karma-karma-karma-karma karma chameleon..."

The police arrived to break it up, the disco man went home in a huff, and hours later people were still coming back from the chip shop wondering where the hell everybody had gone. It was my best night out ever, and even now certain family members can only talk to each other if a solicitor is present. Pete and Brenda are still married, bless 'em.
( Scaryduck LIKES EGG, Thu 12 Nov 2009, 13:01, 5 replies)

"It was my best night out ever"
Brilliant *click*
(Super Oaf Petit filous?, Thu 12 Nov 2009, 14:33, closed)

I too must've missed this the first time out...

So I'm glad you pearoasted it.

Brilliant. *Clickety*
( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Fri 13 Nov 2009, 15:25, closed)

*sniggers*
Brenda Grabber? Really??
(ConanTroutman thought we would free the vulture, Tue 17 Nov 2009, 14:52, closed)