Important lessons
I’d been a best man before, and it was a doddle I thought. So when a friend approached me many years ago and asked me to perform the same duties at his wedding, I jumped at the chance.

There were a couple of issues that should have put the brakes on this idea. Primarily, the fact that I’d only known this guy for two years, and had only spent about a third of that time living anywhere near him. Our knowledge of one another – as friends go – was pretty limited.

BUT but but … it was an odd time in my life. Everything was ok. I had a house, a good job, a partner. No problems anywhere. And unfortunately for the groom, my self-worth was inflated to ridiculously smug proportions. In short, I was a comfortable twat, and felt I’d been asked to be best man because, in short, I was the best fucking man. Oh yeah. It didn’t matter that I had a mere handful of anecdotes about our time together, that I’d never shared a single secret with him, that our acquaintance was based purely on getting pissed in pubs. I’m a fuuuuuunny guy. A hoot. Everybody in the bar wants to know this crazy giggle-machine. I’m Norm out of Cheers, for fucks sake. NORM! That’s right.

I began writing the speech a week before the wedding. Two bottles of wine in, I was like Bob goddamn Monkhouse. All my joke cylinders were firing. The pen could barely keep up with my diamond-mining brain. “Oh man,” I chortled, “I’m going to kill this crowd!” This speech had everything: mum-pleasers, dad-pleasers, some edginess, some classics, heartfelt sentiment … it couldn’t fail. I folded it up and resolved not to look at again until the morning of the ceremony. “Shouldn’t you practice it, maybe try it out on me first?” asked my ever-helpful, pragmatic girlfriend.
I smiled pityingly “Oh, you poor thing. Don’t you understand? There’s magic on these pages. And magic, my dear, the magic of comedy, is a fragile thing. You’ve only to whisper it and POOF, it’s away in the wind, gone forever, never to be laughed at by those for whom it was meant.”

Stupid, stupid boy.

The day of the wedding came. All was smiles and love, as is usually the case with weddings. At dinner I sat with the bride and groom, accepting all compliments with good grace, about how handsome we looked, how gentlemanly. “Ah, enough about me!” I’d laugh as I gulped another glass of wine, “how about the groom eh? He’s trying too!” Then the distinct ring of a spoon on a crystal glass – it was time for the speeches!

First up was the bride’s brother, who had given her away. “No probs about being upstaged here” I thought confidently. This fresh-faced whippersnapper is so nervous he looks like he’s about to take a shit in those hired slacks.
He started with an obvious gag. Everyone laughed. “Internet” I muttered under my breath. Then he fired off another – more laughs, this time with real gusto. Shit, he’s actually funny. And they kept coming. Joke, joke, joke, compliment, joke. The crowd loved him. Then he switched gears and gave some family history, and, no way, holy shit, the fucker is actually crying … the bride’s getting up to hug him! He’s choking back the tears and BANG, a final joke that slays the room and leaves them cheering. Down he sits, wet-faced and grinning shyly. Everyone’s slapping his shoulders and telling him what a damn fine job he’s done, a damn fine job. Then quiet slowly descends on the room again, and it’s my turn.

To this day, I’m not sure exactly what happened over the next twenty-five minutes. I’ve refused all offers to watch the video, although I’m assured it makes for uncomfortable viewing. My memories of it are fragmented – brief bursts of nauseating shame that make me physically curl forward, as if to protect myself from my own failings.

I opened with the line “How the fuck do you follow THAT?”, pointing a burdened finger at the teary-eyed youth beside me, before hurling my script across the room. Silence. My memory got me through the opening lines, which were met with the laughter of gratitude – at least he’s trying to make a conventional speech. Then the doubt crept in. Every time I was about to yell “cunt” I’d look down and see a small child staring up at me with confusion in her eyes. My head swam. The comedy I’d so brilliantly crafted started falling away from me … a snatch of it would occasionally wave and I’d grab it, thrust it forward for these bastards’ delight, and get … nothing. Come on grandma! I’m suggesting the groom caught bad AIDS off a hooker! Isn’t that funny? Aren’t I funny?”

It turns out I’m not. Over the course of the speech I realised that. And for the final ten minutes, I brokenly rambled about the previous couple I’d been best man to, and how they were now in the middle of a particularly bitter and angry divorce. “It’s the kids I feel for, those poor poor kids.” I glanced to the groom and saw him drawing his finger menacingly across his throat.

“To the bride and groom!” I whimpered.
I sat down, and everyone clapped.
( Wet-chinned bag shanker Cannot parse Wogan, Fri 19 Aug 2011, 12:44, 7 replies)

Oh dear God!
Fantastic! I salute you.
(SpangoTheWonderBadger is brewing beer, Fri 19 Aug 2011, 12:52, closed)

I liked
and so I clicked.

Being a best man is hard fucking work. I opened with the line. "Nice to see you, to see you..." and no-one responded.
(Monkey the Chicken Twitter: death_stairs, Fri 19 Aug 2011, 13:35, closed)

That's just criminal!
I thought British people were hardwired to respond to that.
WHAT DO POINTS MEAN?
( Wet-chinned bag shanker Cannot parse Wogan, Fri 19 Aug 2011, 13:40, closed)

Nothing quite like that feeling
as people cough and shuffle and chink their glasses. You wait for the tumbleweed to roll past, and pray for an aneurism.
(richardm, Fri 19 Aug 2011, 14:46, closed)

Magic
A 'click' for the fact you still got a round of applause.
(Mr Fudge It shouldn't be illegal to have sex with an eagle, Fri 19 Aug 2011, 16:50, closed)

I think it was because I stopped.

( Wet-chinned bag shanker Cannot parse Wogan, Fri 19 Aug 2011, 16:53, closed)

& sat down.

(Misery McUglywife an attention seeking sociopathic fuckstain., Sat 20 Aug 2011, 6:23, closed)