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This is a question Weddings Part II

Attending a wedding is like being handed a licence to act like a twat. Oh how I laughed when I sobered up and realised I'd nicked most of the plates and cutlery from the posh hotel lunch and those vague memories of stealthily exiting like a cat-burglar had in fact involved falling out of the hotel, knives and forks clattering onto the steps.

Tell us more of your wedding stories.

(, Mon 3 Nov 2014, 18:10)
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This question is now closed.

Not thinking
About 4 years ago, during the usual wet but warm English summer, a good friend of mine was getting married back in our home village. There was about a group of 8 of us who met up the night before for a gentle beer or two. We were all happily off to bed at about midnight as we were meeting at 11am in the local for pre-arranged dutch courage before the show began at 12.

We all arrive at the local and welcomed by the landlord that used to serve us as lads. We were all suited and booted, the groom and best man in matching suit. After a few pints, we all headed towards the hotel staging the wedding across the local park.

There's a few lads warming up for a game of football, and one smacks the ball over in our direction. The groom, about 25m away, runs up and smashes it; it flies past the keeper into the top corner.

This on its own means nothing. The fact that he then runs to the corner flag in a moment of joy, jumps, and slides on his knees to celebrate.

In his wedding suit. His light grey wedding suit with trousers that are covered in mud and soaked through. 10 minutes before he gets married.

No-one noticed the groom was wearing trousers about 4 sizes too big for him, but there were a few comments about the best man wearing shirt, jacket and shorts.
(, Wed 5 Nov 2014, 18:09, 2 replies)
So, funny thing happened to a mate of mine.
My mate Charles was a confirmed British bachelor and serial monogamist with a colourful romantic background who unexpectedly met the perfect woman, Carrie at a wedding and fell in love with her. But his inability to express his feelings seemed to forestall any possibility of relationship - until they met again and again.

Charles lived with a flatmate, Scarlett, in London. The pair were habitually late to weddings. At this one wedding, Charles met Carrie, an American and ended up spending the night with her. Also at the wedding, David, the brother of Charles and Scarlett, was targeted as an object of affection by a guest. We see that Fiona and Tom were brother and sister and very wealthy and Gareth and Matthew were a gay couple. We also briefly met Bernard and Lydia who were at the wedding. Bernard liked Lydia, but she dismissed him. As the friends left the wedding, we saw Bernard and Lydia kissing passionately.

Charles ended up spending the night with Carrie and was surprised to see that she was leaving in the morning and returning back to America. The next thing we knew, Charles and Scarlett were late again to wedding number 2, that of Bernard and Lydia.

Charles was elated to see Carrie at the wedding, until she introduced him to her fiance, a boorish, Scottish politician who was much older than she. To top things off, Charles was stuck at a table with four of his ex girlfriends. The girl who liked David introduced herself to him in faulty sign language and he was enchanted with her. Despite the fact she was engaged, Carrie slept with Charles again that evening after her fiance had gone off to Scotland. We now saw that the two really cared for one another. Also, there was a very nervous priest who seemed to be unable to say the names of the bride and groom right.

The interim was when Charles received an invitation to Carrie's wedding to Hamish Banks in Scotland. He went to a very expensive store to choose a gift and met Carrie. They spent a few hours shopping for her wedding dress and having a drink in a pub where Carrie revealed that she has had 33 lovers. There's nothing else here, it's just the plot to a shit film, you probably should skip to the next story. After they parted, Charles rushed off to tell Carrie that he loved her, but stopped short. Instead, he refered to the "words of David Cassidy" which is the song "I Think I Love You." Carrie was affected, but kissed him on the cheek and moved on.

The next wedding is was that of Carrie and Hamish in Scotland. It was here where Scarlett met a tall Texan named Chester who fancied her. Gareth tolds everyone to find spouses for themselves. We found out that Fiona had been in love with Charles since she had known him and she revealed this to the stunned Charles and a table mate. Tragedy strucks when Gareth died suddenly, presumably of a heart attack, at the wedding.

Now is time for the funeral - that of Gareth. Matthew gave the eulogy, which is the poem "Funeral Blues" by WH Auden. Carrie attended the funeral and saw Charles. Charles and Tom ended up talking and Tom said that he is not waiting for the lightening bolt to hit, he just wanted to meet someone and settle down.

We then saw an invitation for the fourth wedding, Charles and xxxx. The audience did not know that he will be marrying Henrietta, his slightly wacky ex-girlfriend who was at weddings 2 and 3. The friends got to the wedding where Tom met his distant relative while seating the guests and felt "the thunderbolt." Carrie appeared at the wedding and told Charles that she was separated from Hamish and that their timing had been very bad. Charles did not know what to do - he loved Carrie but was now committed to marrying Henrietta.

David, who now was very steady with the young lady who learned sign language was at the wedding along with Scarlet and Chester. When Charles stayed in the back of the church and asked Tom to delay the wedding, David wanted to know what was going on. He told Charles that he had three choices - he could go on with the wedding or tell everyone that the wedding is off. He said he can't think of number three. Fucking hell, if you're actually reading all of this then you should probably get a proper hobby.

Charles stood with Henrietta to get married and when the priest asked for objections, David came up with the third idea. He objected to the wedding. He asked Charles to translate for him and said that the groom loved someone else. When the priest asked if he does love someone else, Charles answered "I do" and got punched in the eye by the bride. Chaos erupted at the church.

The next scene was in the home of Charles and Scarlett with all the friends present. Carrie came to the door and Charles, in the rain and outside, finally started to let some of his feelings out. He asked her if she would agree "not to marry him" for the rest of their lives. Carrie answered "I do."

The song "Going To The Chapel" was then played as we saw Henrietta marry a member of the guard, Scarlett marry Chester, David marry his girlfriend, Tom marry the distant relative, Matthew with a new partner, Fiona marrying Prince Charles (a joke) and Charles and Carrie with their son, presumably not married.

We had a right laugh, but then Wet Wet Wet got to number one for 15 weeks off the back of it and that spoiled the mood a bit.

(, Wed 5 Nov 2014, 14:30, 11 replies)
She was black you know. And very nice.
I was invited to a wedding of a friend whose husband was of mixed race. All went well then it came to the speeches and the father of the bride got up just before the wedding breakfast was served (for those of you who have not organised a wedding, for some reason the main meal seems to be wedding breakfast; if you're posh of course)

There were two things that went wrong. He stood up and made a joke about being long-winded which obviously struck a chord with those who knew him. To illustrate the point and add a touch of humour he produced a wad of A4 paper about 30 pages thick. Ho ho, another chuckle from the guests. But no. Those 30 pages were not a joke. They were his prepared speech. Which went on for 45 minutes. 45 minutes! We could see the food people going mental as they obviously wanted to serve. Hunger and despair set in amongst the crowd. Children starting wailing but everyone was very English about it all and persevered to the end.

People were listening though, mostly mouth agog as the FOTB proceeded to demonstrate how much he liked his new son-in-law and was not at all troubled by the fact that his skin was a bit darker than he would ordinarily have liked. Tails of holidays abroad in Kenya followed culminating in a fascinating story about how lovely the maid at their game reserve was. And, "do you know what? She was black too you know."

(, Wed 5 Nov 2014, 12:53, 2 replies)
one idyllic sunny saturday when we were about 15 and had been consuming forbidden cider in the fields
we staggered into the village because someone needed a piss. (jo always always needed a piss.) we cut through the graveyard of the beautiful local church, where a bride and her bridesmaids were just about to go in.

"DON'T DO IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!" my friend nick yelled at the top of his voice.

she looked as if he'd smashed a kitten's face in.
(, Wed 5 Nov 2014, 11:31, 23 replies)
Just remembered
The only time I've been moved to tears by a bridal procession. I attended a wedding where all the bridesmaids were wearing backless dresses. The eldest of them had a tattoo covering an entire scapula, of a cartoon Satan raising his middle finger with "FUCK YOU" printed below in a Gothic font.
(, Wed 5 Nov 2014, 10:53, 6 replies)
Gay man marries lesbian woman
Yes, you read that correctly.

The guy was a work colleague, who had been working with us for a year or two. He'd kept his private life, well, private for most of that time, until casually mentioning on a night out that he had previously been in a relationship with a deaf man.

A few months later, he breezed into the office and announced that he was getting married. This was back in the early 90s before same-sex marriages became legal so this did cause a 'WTF?' moment for all of us.

He then clarified the situation. Yes, he was getting married. Yes, it was to a woman. Oh and by the way, did I mention that she's a lesbian? I'm not sure that the clarification actually clarified anything.

So a month or two later, a hardy band of work colleagues showed up for the evening do. Besides the dozen or so of us, it appeared that everyone else present was either a) gay or b) lesbian.

We actually had a really good night, in spite of the obvious nagging doubts about the durability of marriage itself.

The marriage lasted less than 6 months.
(, Wed 5 Nov 2014, 10:04, 19 replies)
Never ask a friend to do the video.
We did, and what we got when we watched it, was rather telling and somehow perhaps more in keeping than it should have been. You'd think it would be easy to read the red light as recording wouldn't you?
So we have a lovely collection of the following type interviews:
"Would you mind saying a few words for the happy couple please?"
"Yeah, of course, let me just finish this comp wine and..."
"Hiya, I'm just doing some video for Mr and Mrs Meach, would you like to say some words?"
"Oh crap, do we have to? Well ok, hang on..."

You get the picture by now I'm sure. We do, we have a whole tape of slightly drunk and embarrassed people preparing themselves to make up some platitude to give us to remember the day. Nothing of the first dance, the cake, or the speeches. But somehow it seems to have captured the mood quite accurately!
(, Tue 4 Nov 2014, 14:28, 2 replies)
Never been to a wedding
Then 2 come along at once:

A number of years back my sister and one of my best friends decided to get married on the same day (not to each other). As one of the 4 best men for my mate, I resolved not to miss out on all the rib-nudging blokey fun on offer (this is a joke just for me, although you may be able to tell from my poncey style, I'm not a blokey-bloke Nuts subscribing knuckle dragger) and with both services being held within 25 minutes drive of each other, I resolved to be present for my mate's registrar service in York city centre; drive back home to the family hovel for my sister's reception, meal and to co-DJ the boisterous drunken-dad-dance-off, with my step-brother. I would then round off the night by going back into town for a messy stumble down Nostalgia Drive, at one of the other best men's cave of solitude.

All well and good except for no small amount of guilt trips from mother & sister; that's normal though.

But then:

My mate's marriage fell apart after 9 days, as he realised, far, far too late that he'd made a massive, not to mention expensive, mistake. As it also turns out the slimy fuck-splash had slept with the backing singer in his band (search for Hijack Oscar - they were on some E4 battle of the bands years ago, my mate is the bassist) the week before his Big Day. He told me all this some 3 or 4 months after the event. I called him a selfish, amoral prick.

He said that's why we are friends, I concurred and we continued the large drugs-fuelled, Accords & models, super-orgy. Max Mosley was there, so you know it was a good one. Wink.
(, Tue 4 Nov 2014, 13:59, 2 replies)
Last of the Summer Wine:
It was their wedding night. Compo had waited for this night for a long time.
He was all nervous energy. He glanced over to Nora who was sweeping the floor.
"Come to bed," he said.
"I suppose you want to consummate our marriage?" she replied.
She studied him. She realised that resisting any longer was futile. She dropped the broom and sat beside him on the bed.
Compo ran his fingers through Nora's greasy locks.
"By 'eck you're gorgeous," he uttered into her ear.
"Do me up me ginnel," she whispered back.
Compo lifted up Nora's stained skirt and started to roll down her stockings.
"What you doing? Just pull down t'britches. My legs are freezin'," she cried.
As Compo pulled down her wind sail sized knickers, he whipped out his old boy, introduced it into her 'ginnel,' and started thrusting.
"Christ. I'm already flaggin' and I've haven't even busted me nut yet," whined Compo.

----End of sample----

Ebook available on amazon.co.uk
(, Tue 4 Nov 2014, 13:50, 12 replies)
Annie's Song
My long time friend felt obliged to ask me to be his best man so I agreed.His fiancée Annie was quite hot but spoiled and a bit of a control freak.She used to check his car mileage before and after any journey he took without her,she 'took care' of their joint finances,she inspected his underwear after every lads' night out for DNA evidence of lady juice etc etc. (Oh how I wish control freakery could be a topic for Question of the Fortnight).
He wasn't allowed to have a stag do, just a quiet drink with her and his best man on the night before the wedding. So it was Dave,me and Annie too.We found a charming country pub high on the misty hills above Todmorden and somewhere between pint six and pint seven I helpfully observed that to liven up the evening someone could piss in the illuminated ornamental fountain.Dave dutifully obliged after being offered the incentive of a bag of nuts.As he aired his own bag of nuts to add an extra dimension to the water feature the goldfish giggled, not at the size of his dick but at the size of the bouncer standing behind him. In one swoosh Dave was lifted mid air, in mid stream,and thrown forcefully out through the heavy front door. Annie and I finished our drinks and his drink and his nuts and then rushed out to join him. He was not happy and neither were we when we saw him staggering towards the large picture window with a breeze block raised above his head.We fled in terror towards my car in the car park and had almost reached it when we heard the crash and the tinkling glass. Dave joined us at the car as I fumbled with the keys but I was too slow.We could hear the angry voices of men... lots of them.
"Under the car!" I hissed.
Now there wasn't a lot of room under a Renault Dauphine (yeah,I know) but we squeezed under and waited with bated breath. It was cold,it was dark and for five, ten... fifteen minutes we watched the boots and shoes of fuming country nutters pacing the car park within metres of our hiding place.Half an hour passed before we emerged,now strangely sober.The plan was to free wheel down the slope out of the car park before starting the engine but as the car began edging slowly forward there was a grunted "Oi!" ...and the chase was on. We got a head start but the headlights in my rear view mirror were looking bigger by the second. Speeding down the twisting,narrow hill I rounded a bend,switched off the lights and crunched onto the gravel of someone's private drive.Two car loads screeched past. I waited for a while before toddling back to my place with the happy couple crouched out of sight in the floor well behind me.
With morning upon us,Annie went home to prepare for her big day but within two hours she was back. Mascara streaked her pale cheeks as she explained she'd had a call from Sergeant Wilson at the local nick.Witnesses had seen her at the scene of the fracas and the police needed to speak with the man responsible for the criminal damage.I suggested that rather than risk being arrested at the alter, we should present ourselves immediately at the nick to make a statement and then go ahead with the wedding as planned. Dave was not keen on the idea at all and was visibly shaking as we climbed the stone steps to the police station. On the top step I stood in front of him and grabbed his arms.
"Dave, there is no Sergeant Wilson.It was me.I made the call to Annie.It was a joke!"
The look of confusion slowly turned to a look of realisation and as I looked into his watery eyes I could sense his relief; I could then sense his forehead making contact with the bridge of my nose. It hurt but not quite as much as the back of my skull when it hit the stone steps.
Three hours later we were standing together at the front of the church as some guy played with his organ and then the organist piped up with John Denver's 'Annie's Song'. We turned to see the beautiful bride making her grand entrance. She glanced down the aisle to see her beloved standing next to a black eyed retard wearing a blood stained plaster on the bridge of his nose and a white bandage wrapped around his head.
I was politely asked not to appear on any of the wedding photos.
(, Tue 4 Nov 2014, 13:03, 4 replies)
Something something
and baldmonkey went mental.
(, Tue 4 Nov 2014, 12:42, Reply)
Best man speech
Reposting hard for the first time

» Winging It

Best Man Speech
Many years ago now I was asked by my best mate to be his best man, in all honesty I was young probably about 22 years old, I drank a lot we dabbled rather often like in illegal substances (it's not big and it's not clever). The point is I was not exactly the most reliable person.

I did all the other prerequisites for a best man, organised a completely substandard stag do (mini bus to Liverpool city centre which resulted in most of us spending the night in cells).

It was a few weeks before the wedding and my and my mate went for a pint and we discussed the best mans speech, it suddenly dawned on me I had forgotten all about it, we had been friends for years and I just imagined that I would say a few bits off the top of my head and get away with it, then he told me that that's gonna be the focus point for everyone (he is in the army and a lot of squaddies were going to be in attendance).

Even the day before the wedding I had nothing, that night I got totally trashed with his squaddie mates and him, we say at about 4am and wrote what could possibly be the single most offensive piece of literature since the bible.

The day arrives, seriously hung over, start drinking very early and dabbling.

The moment comes, I stand up, I check my pocket the speech is there....relief....I open up the paper to see the compete and utter scrawlings of a drug fuelled alcoholic binged brain. Indecipherable characters that looked like something that would be found in a pyramid, huge CDC's all over it including the back that the whole crowd could see.

I paused, stuttered, took a deep breath and absolutely fucking nailed it. Well that's what everyone said. I can't even remember what I said at all, not one thing, but everyone bought me lots of drinks later including the father of the bride (phew) and patted me on the back and said it was the funniest thing they have ever heard.
They may have been lying but I don't care.

Does that count as winging it?
(, Tue 4 Nov 2014, 12:16, 3 replies)
The wedding itself went fine
Me, my dad and my brother were on the way to a wedding, travelling separately to The Females because The Females had important things to sort out while we were only required to rock up, not fart during the ceremony and then get drunk.

Anyway. We got in the car, put the radio on, and the very first song that came on was "When Two Tribes Go To War". Which tickled us as potentially very appropriate.
(, Tue 4 Nov 2014, 11:40, 4 replies)
"No", I said to the American guest, and the bride's 80 year old mother
"Double fisting is not when you have two drinks at the same time. It's actually when you have two fists firmly shoved up your anus"

I remember being very pleased that I'd been able to correct this misconception.
(, Tue 4 Nov 2014, 11:28, 9 replies)
my best man speech
I Was told i was going to be the best man the night before his wedding, we had not spoken in ages (like 2 years) and when i knew him he was a bedroom troll that was slightly over obsessed with WWE wrestling.

He was now involved with a woman who had 2 kids from a previous relationship and she had a a third with him on the way, safe to say i didn't really know him anymore.

Long story short i bumbled my way through a completely wank off the cuff speech (Hur hur) and finished my speech with i hope he lays the smackdown on his new relationship with his wife. No laughs and me swiftly hitting the gin.
(, Tue 4 Nov 2014, 10:58, Reply)
So Near So Far
I have my dutch friend Adriaan to thank for the most bizarre wedding I've ever attended. I'd known him since he and his family moved from a town called Zegwaart (which always stuck in my head as the running gag when he said where he was from was to repeat "Say Whaaat?" every time, we had a right laugh etc) to the sunny Midlands in the 80s.

It wasn't due to any strange Dutch wedding traditions but thanks to a combination of mildy bracing (fucking torrential) black country weather and a rather shoddy Church roof. As guests scurried into the churchyard under umbrelllas and jacket collars they were met with the sight a sodden and embarrassed man of the cloth full of apologies. A night of hammering chubby rain had taken its toll on the underfunded roof so, er, sorry act of God etc, etc rain check?

Whilst inconvenient to us locals it was doubly so for the travelling Dutch contingent. So in the spirit of "the show must go on" the dripping wedding party made their way to the nearest fully-roofed building to continue the proceedings. So it came to be that the words were spoken, the bride kissed and confetti flung in the hastily reorganised cafe of the local supermarket. Cheering and clapping I turned to see the Groom's mother weeping happily, saying to me "It's so beautiful, reminds me so much of my wedding day". "Oh" I said "did you get wed in Spar too?"
(, Tue 4 Nov 2014, 10:47, 10 replies)
I once went to the wedding of a good friend who was getting married to a real scumbag: I never liked him and didn't really understand what she (a genuinely lovely person) saw in him. The marriage didn't last very long after it turned out he had actually started cheating on her before the big day.

Even so, he was a class above his family who were, how can I put it ... 'of Irish descent'. It started with his best man being too drunk to give a speech, and then the kitty behind the bar was destroyed in less than 45 mins in the most undignified manner imaginable. When they were told they had to start paying for drinks, they threatened the bar staff with violence. The DJ was threatened with his face being cut if he didn't continuously play their fucking diddly-dee bog wog music all night, to which they got more boisterous until the police were called and they thankfully dispersed.

Proper vermin.
(, Tue 4 Nov 2014, 10:41, 5 replies)
i was the bridesmaid for evie, my oldest friend from school, a couple of years ago
she and her husband are both a bit scatty. when i arrived at the church for the rehearsal, they were late. she'd had her toe bitten by a dachshund and had to go for stitches/shots. meanwhile the groom, who never wears suits, had no idea that he needed cufflinks for all the men's shirts, and was on an emergency dash to buy 8 pairs of cufflinks. and the best man had broken down on the m6 and was being towed towards us very slowly.

we finally made it down the aisle, so i was standing behind her, her dad and the husband. the vicar started to drone the words. after a couple of minutes, evie asked where her bit was. when we looked, the vicar had absent-mindedly clasped her husband-to-be's hand with her dad's, and they were just standing there bemusedly holding hands in front of evie whilst the vicar said the vows.

meanwhile i had concerns about the church floor. it had a very ornate metal grate all down the centre of the aisle. i knew that i had to juggle 2 small children, a bouquet, a rather unchristian-deep-cut dress, the bride's veil and stiletto heels down that thing. i asked if i could walk along the side of it.

"no problem," the lying vicar twat said. "we cover it up with a red carpet on the day."

of course it turned out the red carpet was actually red tissue paper. as i turned around at the top of the aisle to sit down after taking the bride's bouquet, my heel pierced it, caught in the grate, and i stumbled in front of the whole congregation. the dress yanked down to lower than anyone - especially my dad and brothers - wanted to see, and i so so so nearly yelled, "FUCK!!!" in a house of god as i thought i was going to faceplant on the stone floor.

luckily i caught myself, and sat down with no more than a wrenched ankle, but of course everyone except the bride had seen it :( :( :(
(, Tue 4 Nov 2014, 9:02, 14 replies)
I joined a receiving line next to some random girl
Some of the bride's family arrived and began greeting people. They greeted random girl warmly, turned to me, smiled, and said "we've heard so much about you!" I took the mistaken identity cue and started chattering on and on about the beautiful bride as random girl turned towards me in disbelief. She finally forced her way into the charming conversation and resentfully denied having any idea who I was. Fun while it lasted.
(, Tue 4 Nov 2014, 8:14, 4 replies)
The last thing I remember of the wedding day is pissing myself laughing at confetti falling out of the Mrs' knickers as they came off.
I was very, very drunk.
(, Tue 4 Nov 2014, 1:59, 2 replies)
I got married last year. I can totally recommend marrying a Sikh, the food was great and I got to grow a beard and arrive on a horse dressed like a Maharaja. And I got to wear a sword.
The sword is the coolest thing ever, we used it to cut the cake and now it lives under the coffee table.
When I was in the indian wedding shop looking at the swords in the cabinet I asked the man if I could look at a particular sword that caught my eye. It was magnificent, with a bronze handle shaped like a lions head and a red velvet scabbard with red swarovski crystals. He said "That sword is just for display, nobody has ever been able to take it out of its scabbard". I said I would like to see it anyway, and then easily pulled it out from the scabbard. Everyone in the shop was completely awed and amazed cos clearly I'm like the Indian King Arthur now or something. The man was so impressed that he gave me 10% off the sword and half price on the special pointy shoes.
(, Tue 4 Nov 2014, 0:51, 9 replies)
The Wedding of River Song
Fucking slag tits cunt bitchface never invited me.

I'll 'spoilers!' her. Fucking whorebag.

Not that I wanted to go. Sweeties - she stole that from me as well.

Hope she get's Space Ebola aids and gang raped by 100 Ogrons.

(, Mon 3 Nov 2014, 19:20, 23 replies)
(sorry folks)
I was ill last week so QOTW didn't change.
(, Mon 3 Nov 2014, 18:11, 18 replies)

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