City brides have golden rings / Country brides have brass
The only ring that Rosie has
Is the ring around her ass
(the other guy not the one that gave you coochie warts, Mon 17 Nov 2014, 23:23, 6 replies)

I was looking to upgrade my home audio system and my mate suggested I ask down the tip.
At first I was sceptical, but in fact I got some excellent advice from a group of large black birds that lived there. Junk ravens knew surround.
( drimble he'd been white, he'd been black, Mon 17 Nov 2014, 19:38, 7 replies)

When I was a kid, my mate's dad
would stand in front of the fire, hook his thumbs in his braces (really, this was early 70s Manchester), and declaim:

'Marriage is an institution. And you know what kind of people they put in institutions.'

I'm sure he pinched it from Dave Allen, or Les Dawson or whoever, but it still makes me smile.
(zebideedoodah likes florence but prefers venice, Mon 17 Nov 2014, 19:04, Reply)

The official order of rings:
1. Engagement ring
2. Wedding ring
3. Suffering
(lurkylurklurk swings more, Mon 17 Nov 2014, 18:31, 7 replies)

Always the bridesmaid
I was once appointed Chief of Bridesmaid Operations of Honor or whatever the fuck menas most important person after the bride and groom at a wedding (best man can fuck right off). Now, I wasn't in chagre of the rings or keeping the Vicar sober but I did have one vital responsibility (apparently) that I failed in miserably. 'Keep the bride presentable'

Now, I ask you, is it my fault that, with ten minutes to go till kick off, the bride developed a rampant case of the shits? Would that we had a disabled toilet to hand with the requisite space and,er, propping-stuff-up poles. But no, the archaic country church the happy couple chose provided merely a tall shoebox space that threatened the occupancy of a single bridal bumcheek, let alone the complete arse and metric fuckton of unecessary lace that was enough to spare blushes in another dimension.

And, again, is it my fault that said Bride was born without the necessary Mr Fantastic arms to do the post-pebble-dashing duty? NO. It was left to me and a Crystal Maze worthy assault course of porcelain and lace with a shit-encrusted 'jewel' to ensure the bride wasn't walking up the aisle with the leftovers of her own generous 'aisle' flecked all over her lacy derriere like a rejected Stone Roses album cover. I failed and Bride of Frankenshite was born.
( Ms Shenanigans put something interesting here later, Mon 17 Nov 2014, 15:15, 11 replies)

http://bit.ly/1xEMMJ4
Ultimate wedding song. Accept no substitutes.
(zebideedoodah likes florence but prefers venice, Sun 16 Nov 2014, 16:19, 4 replies)

So you want to tie the knot
Tie it tight, don't let it rot, the memory of this day
Are you deafened by the bells
Could be heaven, could be hell
In a cell for two
Big day come and big day go
Life goes on after the show
But will your love have the fire and glow
Like on the big day
Statistics they don't say a lot
But can you keep what you have got forever together
There's a lesson to be learnt
Many fingers have been burnt with the touch of gold
Love can come and love can go
What your chance is I don't know
But if you have love then let it show like on the big day
You're a new recruit
The big day
in your wedding suit today
Like on the big day
yes you're looking fine
The big day
sign on the dotted line
The big day
it's your wedding march today
(McChinaman banned, Sun 16 Nov 2014, 15:00, 1 reply)

It's my 1 year anniversary today.
We just got back from a month in Colombia, I'm doing a poo whilst I write this and then I'm going to fuck my wife.

Byeeeeee
( A Rory Borealis here under duress, Sun 16 Nov 2014, 13:55, 15 replies)

Shagging the brides sister (again)...
One of my mates was getting married. I was shagging his bride-to-bes sister on and off. The brides father detested me because of this. He could almost accept it if I were going out with her, but we were both happy with a random shag every couple of weeks.

Roll on to the wedding day and I rock up to the church on time. The stressed brides mum asks if I can drive back to her house to pick up the tray of buttonholes and corsages left behind. I duly oblige and turn up. The bride, her dad and bridesmaids were getting ready in the hallway. I walked in and the brides sister bent over to pick up the tray. As she did so her cowl dress dropped to give us a full view of her lovely braless breasts. Full on Downblouse! I smiled took the tray, thanked her, turned around and walked to my car, followed by the brides father who said to me: "You keep your fucking hands off them!

About 10.30pm that night I had my hands on those fabulous breasts thinking "Fuck you dickhead!"
(vikingaero Deilvered To Your Door in 30 mins, Sun 16 Nov 2014, 13:46, 9 replies)

I got married to a hot bitch.

(McChinaman banned, Sun 16 Nov 2014, 11:37, 4 replies)

'My brother married the first girl who was stupid enough to fuck him twice.'

(zebideedoodah likes florence but prefers venice, Sun 16 Nov 2014, 3:22, 1 reply)

My brother got married
I'm the eldest of three boys; the youngest of us was the first to get married. (The middle one was the second, I still stand alone like the cheese)

Anyway. The lead-up to Jason's (for that is his name) wedding was a bit of a mess. First, his fiancée was hit broadside by a truck on her way back from the final fitting for her wedding dress. She was pretty banged up but is ok now.

Then, our father broke his wrist while throwing around an (American, for we are) football with Jason. He ended up getting a plate and several pins put into it (his wrist, not the football).

Then I split my chin open during my brother's bachelor party when we went curling (did I mention that we are a somewhat slightly weird family? 'Cos we are) and needed four stitches. I still came back for drinks afterwards, since 1) it takes more than a few stitches to stop this 24-hour party person and b) I *really* needed a drink.

Then my aunt slipped on the ice outside our home after the party my family threw before the wedding and showed up at the ceremony on crutches. Later X-rays told she had broken her tibia.

My aunt wasn't there for the before-wedding photo session, but we still have a photo of my dad, my now sister-in-law, and me as The Casualties.

They are still very happily married. <3
(tellum0 is spelled with an 'o', Sun 16 Nov 2014, 2:02, 1 reply)

One, two, three, four
As a sometime church organist I've seen/heard(/inflicted) my fair share of wedding music horrors.

I was once asked to accompany a trumpeter who would be playing "the Ave Maria" during the signing of the registers. Which Ave Maria? "Errrr..." There's two which are commonly chosen. There's the Bach/Gounod, and the Schubert. "Oh, it's the Bach." Sure? "Yes. Definitely the Bach."

Fine. Trumpeter goes off and learns the Bach.

Come the morning of the wedding, and the bride's mother hears the trumpeter playing the Bach. "That's nice, what is it?" "It's the Ave Maria for the signing of the registers." "Oh, no! That's not how it goes. We want the one that goes [starts warbling] Aaaaaaaaaa-ve Ma-riiiiiiiiii" etc.

Oh, you mean the Schubert.

Go home. Print off sheet music for the Schubert. Give to trumpeter. Trumpeter is bricking it at this point.

The wedding was three hours later. The trumpeter had been practising for three hours and had learned pretty much all the tune. Unfortunately he had, somehow, failed to spot that the piece is in 4/4 and was labouring under the misapprehension that it was in 3/4.

On the one hand, it's probably the only wedding I've played for where the guests have actually listened to the music during the registers. Sadly this wasn't due to the quality of the performance but more because they were pissing themselves at me shouting "ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR!" at the poor trumpeter. Ah well.
(ChaRleyTroniC is invincible with his chips and cheese, Fri 14 Nov 2014, 17:55, 9 replies)

Canadian wedding
We're in the church of a very small town (population about 150), the guests are seated in the pews, the groom and his guys are standing at the front and pretending that they didn't get wasted and have a massive punch-up the night before, everything's set for the bride's entrance (f'narr f'narr). Seated at the piano is an old lady who begins playing Pachelbel's Canon in D, as is traditional, and the bridesmaids start filing in.

Then, as the last note of the Canon fades away, the old lady flicks the page on her sheet music and begins to play a second tune and an obese aunt in very casual clothes stands up. And I'm thinking, "Hang on, I know th- oh god, they're not going to- oh, they are". The aunt begins singing:

"Look into my heart, you will see what you mean to me..."

They didn't just do the first verse and chorus either, they did the whole song, even the "There's no love like your love" middle eight and everything. I spent the entire time trying not to betray any emotion on my face, while inside I was a whirlwind of horror, hilarity and not a little emotion - it was kind of beautiful, after all.

Oh, and the bride and groom's dog's outfit cost more than mine :(
( emvee cruor deo cruoris, Fri 14 Nov 2014, 16:39, 9 replies)

Goldfish
A friend of mine married a Taiwanese girl, in America. They wanted the room where they were marrying to have various symbolic objects around, mostly related to her background. This included red material draped everywhere (red is a lucky colour), hundreds of candles all around the place, and a live goldfish in a bowl on each of the main tables. I and some mates were asked to help set the room up. Draping red cloth around was easy. Placing the 200 or so candles was also easy, if time consuming. However the goldfish were a real challenge.

They were kept in an aquarium in my friend's apartment. He'd bought 10 large glass fish bowls. Now I thought it would be simplest to pop the fish in a couple of big water-filled plastic bags and drive to the place, then fill up the bowls with water and drop the fish in. However one of the other blokes helping was a biologist, who told us that we couldn't use tap water, and the water had to be at the right temperature, or the fish would die. So we ended up scooping water out of the aquarium into the fish bowls, catching the fish, placing them in the bowls, and then taking a taxi down the road to the place. Of course it was impossible to keep the water in the bowls so by the time the first taxi arrived we all had soaking wet trousers and the fish were looking very nervous. We had to make 2 journeys to transport all the fish: the second time we thought of putting clingfilm over the top of the bowls. This saved our trousers but the fish were no less traumatised by the journey.

So when we had all the fish in the right place we had to top up the bowls with water anyway, as most of it had sloshed out onto our legs. And yes the biologist was right - either the coldness or the tap-i-ness of the water, or maybe the traumatic taxi ride, something caused half the fish to die. So by the time the bride walked in half the fish were floating motionless in the bowls. We prioritised the live fish to the happy couple's table, and those of their immediate families.

I'd love to say that the draped red material caught fire on the candles and distracted everyone from the dead fish, but it wasn't to be. So we sat through the ceremony and the speeches with dead fish on the tables. The bride and groom only realised what was going when they walked round all the tables afterwards, greeting their guests. Apparently for goldfish to be lucky in Taiwanese culture they have to be alive.
(Smale is stuffed, Fri 14 Nov 2014, 15:14, Reply)

HK Weddings
For the most absurd and elaborately over-the-top weddings, you would struggle to beat Hong Kong. My wife's cousin lives there and got married a few years ago. Highlights included:

A ceremony held in a room so decked out with satin and bows it was like an inside-out (well, technically outside-in) Disney princess.

About 15 courses of beautiful food (this was the best part, obviously) rather annoyingly served with something resembling sunny-delight.

The bride and groom descending from the ceiling in a giant swan, scattering bon-bons to their assembled guests.

A stage-show in which members of the audience called-in to answer adverts placed in that day's newspaper and were answered on the stage.

A game in which the groom was blindfold and required to identify his new wife by touch, from a group of women including his mother-in-law!

No end of other shit that I didn't follow due to be conducted in Cantonese. The groom playing the saxophone was involved.

So, if you are looking for an over-the-top wedding, hire a HK wedding planner. They know their stuff!
( Ugi , it's a game of give and cake, Fri 14 Nov 2014, 12:51, 1 reply)

I had a greek mate of mine marry an italian woman. Both families tried to outdo each other in laviousness. It was a bit bonkers
the reception was in some grand stately home, 13 course meal. Roaming peacocks. Violins. The full wedding bullshit. As far as I know both families were middle class suburbanites. The two families together bought the new couple a house and a car.
One year of married bliss later, she had broken his finger in an argument and he told me he keyed down the side of her car outside the Family court where they were getting their divorce.
On an unrelated note, I'm having a party in the park on the weekend and it looks like it's going to piss down, so I looked at a bunch of Wedding marquee hire places. They averaged around 300 for the day for the standard white 3mx6m one, which I couldn't justify. I then looked at another site that was selling an identical model new for 120. I'm buying it and going to hire it out on weekends and undercut the fucking bandits
( cumquat may will not be commenting further on the allegations, Thu 13 Nov 2014, 22:40, 16 replies)

On my wedding day, my father-in-law chased me around the venue with a sooty puppet.
I really wish that was a euphemism.
(BinDipper, Wed 12 Nov 2014, 17:46, 6 replies)

Dancing...
...it's not that I dislike the *concept*, just the practise of me doing it. It feels entirely unnatural, uncomfortable, and I've no idea what I'm meant to be doing or (crucially) why. Which is why I always forgo the clubbing portion of any friends birthdays or outings, and just go to the pre-drinks/dinner bit whenever possible. The only near exception being at gigs, where I would gleefully jump and bounce around in the moshpit, but that's not really *dancing*.

My non-dancing life went pretty happily for many, many years, in spite of the protestations and disappointment of friends who wanted me to come to their horrid, noisy clubs. Until, that is, a friends wedding. Where, for the first time, I would be surrounded by my dance-loving friends, AND a dance floor. Oh, the glee on their faces - these three girls in particular. The squeeing, the excitement, that *finally*, after all these years, they would get to see me dance. The anticipation and the threats (I say "threats" - but that was how it was taken rather than given) that I would be pulled onto the dance floor were built up to nobel-prize/oscar-award-winning status & importance. I weakly protested, saying that I've tried dancing but it feels weird and I've not idea what I'm doing, but the coo-ing reassurances of "you'll be fine" "just let yourself go!", "have fun and dance like nobodies watching" etc. came thick and fast.

There was to be no escape. "Fine" I thought. I'll go up for one dance just to shut them up, then I can head back to the buffet, bar and smokers corner to eat, chat, and crack wise.

The big night came. 3 songs after the first dance, the aforementioned girls, with beaming smiles yet eerily-threatening expressions came to my table, grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me onto the dance floor. My brow furrowed with fear and discomfort, but I was encouraged and cajoled. Surrounded by 60% friends/acquaintances, 40% strangers, I started dancing. Well... I say dancing. I started moving my limbs in a manner I thought was rhythmical (In fact, it was *perfectly* rhythmical - I'm a drummer, dammit. Rhythm is the one bit I can do).

15 seconds. Literally. That's how long I lasted before their worried, almost horrified faces made it clear they could take no more. Almost in unison, 2 of them touched me on the arm, pointed off the dance floor and, shaking their heads slightly, said "it's ok, you can go".


I thanked them, let out a little a sigh of relief and went back to the bar. But it still hurts a bit that I'm even worse a dancer than I thought I would be.

Fuck weddings.
(nobuttocks last besmirched the internet on, Wed 12 Nov 2014, 13:55, 15 replies)

Haven't done any otters for a while

(eViLegion Chief Commissioner of the Scottish Lunacy Board, Wed 12 Nov 2014, 13:44, 2 replies)

Daisy, Daisy
Give me your tits to chew
I'm half crazy my balls are turning blue
I can't afford the marriage
I can't afford a carriage
But you look sweet, under the sheet
While I'm on top of you.
(ParaSitius is an Optimistic Pessimist, Wed 12 Nov 2014, 11:52, Reply)

Mister and missus, be nice to each other, mister and missus, you gotta love one another.
Think of the future, and all you're hoping for. Be nice to each other, mister and missus. Friends and lovers, sharing each day forever more. We made a vow we'd always be true, now that's not hard to do, as long as we remember to be strong. Proving each day that we really care for all the plans we share, together that is where we both belong.
( drimble he'd been white, he'd been black, Wed 12 Nov 2014, 1:02, 11 replies)

I have been to three Hindu weddings and they were very nouveau riche Hindu weddings. Holy cow they like to spend money on impressing the friends and relatives.
Johnnie Walker Blue Label on the whitey alky guest table.
( d.r._and_quinch when will you be famous?, Tue 11 Nov 2014, 21:10, 3 replies)

We went to a wedding in Spain, as the bride was Spanish.
It was all a very nice, very middle class affair - a lovely country setting in the late afternoon, followed by a short trip to a lovely hotel for the breakfast, which was held around the luxurious pool, and entirely candlelit.

The father of the bride spoke no English at all, and so his speech was translated by his eldest son, line for line. It was a masterclass in such a setting - short, heartfelt; bordering on the emotional, and a good joke to close.

Then to the Best Man.

I've been Best Man a couple of times - I know how it goes: you're generally young, you're generally nervous, and you're generally not very funny, but everyone supports you because everyone's nice. So have a whisky before you go on, and get it done with.

This guy - this guy had had a bottle.

He actually, properly staggered and swayed up to the microphone.

There were a couple of gasps - he dropped his cards, turned around and knocked over a wine bottle to crash on the floor. "Iss a ... where the ... Paul what did I ... ?" he mumbled

Everyone stared in horror, but "No no!" I comforted my table, "This is part of it - he'll do this for a couple of moments, and then he'll crack in with an excellent joke - this is good stuff!"

Oh no.

Oh no.

This guy was actually that trashed. Absolutely trashed. He referred to the bride's 'baby hole'. He told a story about when she was mensturating. He told a story that seemed to involve him "Showing her my dick."

After a few minutes, the groom interrupted him, saying "Haha! I've, er ... I've got Graham something to thank him, er ... " to which several tables hectored with "YER! A TAXI!"

Sadly his speech didn't seem to make the final cut of the video, as if it had, I would have ordered a copy, if only to show to the prospective and some very nervous Best Men I've met over the years since, to tell them "If you can do it better than this guy, you're doing OK."
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Tue 11 Nov 2014, 17:04, Reply)

I had two weddings
Which was nice.
(RVD420 has his world coming down on, Tue 11 Nov 2014, 13:39, 3 replies)

will you marry me?

( The Doveston haunted by the memory of his own amnesia, Tue 11 Nov 2014, 13:26, 5 replies)

Cleggy's Wedding Night:
"Where do you want me gubbins?" said Cleggy.
"In me mouth," replied Pearl.
As Cleggy pulled out and placed his length into Pearl's mouth, he uttered, "Sweet Christ."
Howard bursts in, "Pearl!"
Load blown, Cleggy rolled over and wiped his penis with a flannel in the same fashion as a snooker player chalking his cue.
( $$ ✅, Tue 11 Nov 2014, 8:50, 4 replies)

Rabid Rodent fux kidz

(dozers, do fuck off ur a nob m8, Mon 10 Nov 2014, 19:53, 14 replies)

Romantic Wedding Video
About ten years ago, I was best man for a French friend of mine in Marseille.

The bridesmaids were a mixed bunch, one of them being a district nurse with a big mouth and dubious morals.

During the ceremony, she was seen leading the groom's cousin by the hand, towards the toilets. Which helps to explain why the first post-wedding video footage shows said district nurse emerging from a toilet cubicle with the words "I've just had half a cock in my mouth".
(tricyclic_looper, Mon 10 Nov 2014, 15:00, 13 replies)