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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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Danse macabre
The worst wedding story I ever came across happened not to me, but to friends of friends. During the 80s this couple were medics in a war-torn African state (really not sure which one) and saw some pretty harrowing stuff on a regular basis.

They had successfully treated the infant son of one of the local chiefs of something that could have become quite serious and, as a thank-you, were invited to a wedding in his village a month or so later. It was certainly a big deal to be invited and they were quite looking forward to going. They had been assured that all trouble had receded from the locality and they would have safe passage to and from the village, which was a fair distance away.

The original plan had been to make the half-day journey on the eve of the wedding but circumstances at their clinic forced them to delay their departure until the day of the ceremony itself. They set off before dawn with four bodyguards and were not even half way to their destination when they heard the muffled sound of a huge explosion and saw, in the distance, a thick plume of black smoke begin to climb its way into the sky, where it ominously seemed to hang without movement for a very long time.

They had no idea what had happened, or where it had happened except that it was ahead of them, but the road they were on went through a mix of open country and jungle and, as far as they knew, only really went to the village they were headed for. It didn't look good.

And so it proved. When they arrived, several hours later, they were greeted by the most appalling carnage you can imagine. They never found out what had caused the initial explosion. There was all sorts of faction fighting at the time, but the chief they were visiting had a solid reputation for diplomacy within the country and had managed to keep his people out of trouble. But whether it had been a bomb or a mortar attack, the explosion had happened in the most populous area of the village and had caused maximum damage.

The worst, however, was yet to some. As if the explosion itself hadn't killed enough people, the perpetrators, who had been concealed in the surrounding jungle, had then systematically gone through the village and hacked almost every man, woman and child to death. Not just by a couple of machete blows, but by severing each limb and head from the torso. The body count was bad enough, but trying to assess numbers from the body parts that littered the whole village must have been truly horrendous.

But this was their job and it was all they could do to set to work. There were no survivors from those who had been attacked, but some villagers had managed to flee into the surrounding jungle and hide from their assailants.

The medics then had to try and reassemble the bodies. They knew that tribal custom considered it paramount for the dead to be buried complete, even if the body parts were separated, and buried within a distinct (and short) timeframe. All that night and all the next day, through the heat and the swarms of flies that settled on every piece of flesh available, they put the villagers back together as best they could.

But sadly, their best efforts weren't enough. They had radioed for help, which had come in the form of several truckloads of soldiers and several more truckloads of cheap wooden coffins, which were to be used to bury the dead.

And no matter how they tried, they still had body parts left over – and not even a matching number. Nor did they have enough coffins for the number of bodies they ought to have had. As the hour approached for the mass burials and the remaining villagers, plus those from friendly neighbouring villages, gathered for a much more macabre ceremony than the one they had planned to attend, the medics realised that they simply could not complete the task they had undertaken.

And with a degree of desperate and exhausted resignation (unsurprising, as they had had very little sleep) they placed all the remaining heads into one coffin, crammed the remaining torsos into another, and the legs and arms into the last two, nailing down the lids and hoping that no-one would ever find out.

They almost didn’t - until the pallbearers carrying the coffin tripped on route to the grave, sending it crashing to the ground. It burst open and the degree of consternation caused by the sight of a boxful of betrainered limbs spilling across the hallowed earth of the village burial ground forced the medics to flee for safety and also very nearly caused an international incident.

And so, despite their best efforts, they were forced to admit – you should never put all your legs in one casket.
(, Sat 8 Nov 2014, 5:35, 18 replies)
I'm glad I I skipped to the end of this Bongo Bongo Bullshit.

(, Sat 8 Nov 2014, 8:54, closed)
what gave it away that you had to skip to the end.

(, Sat 8 Nov 2014, 10:14, closed)
It being Bongo Bongo Bullshit, mostly.

(, Sun 9 Nov 2014, 15:15, closed)
without 'land' bongo bongo could be a hipster club.

(, Sun 9 Nov 2014, 15:44, closed)

(, Sat 8 Nov 2014, 14:31, closed)
At least you tried

(, Sat 8 Nov 2014, 9:56, closed)
Die in a fire

(, Sat 8 Nov 2014, 18:11, closed)
I die in fear

(, Sat 8 Nov 2014, 19:01, closed)
^ stroke victim ^

(, Sat 8 Nov 2014, 19:22, closed)
Well, if you must...

(, Sat 8 Nov 2014, 19:26, closed)
Why don't you jump into a volcano with Skagra?

(, Sat 8 Nov 2014, 19:31, closed)
Because I'd lava not.

(, Sat 8 Nov 2014, 20:10, closed)
bit gay

(, Sun 9 Nov 2014, 11:29, closed)
I'd like to thank you
for including enough line breaks that the punchline became immediately visible, thus saving me the time of having to read the rest of it.
(, Sat 8 Nov 2014, 21:51, closed)

(, Sat 8 Nov 2014, 23:32, closed)
you were doing so well up until 'on route'

(, Mon 10 Nov 2014, 8:20, closed)
fucking predictive twatting text

(, Tue 11 Nov 2014, 1:29, closed)

Just long enough for me to tug one out.
(, Mon 10 Nov 2014, 8:47, closed)

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