Tuesday, 17 August 2010

Princess for a Day

 

Over the years I've seen quite a few weddings, latterly from both sides of these events. As a kid growing up in the fifties I  recall attending family weddings and having a great time running around the reception venue and sliding across dance floors like a sweaty loon. With much pleasure, I can say that the happy couples from those family weddings I remember attending as a small child are still together, a testament to love, affection, courage and patience and doubtless many other virtues, as well as a dollop of good luck.  

I have very recently started to experience  the eye-watering costs that can be expended on the 21st Century version of these  `big days` as well as some very interesting facets of human behavior, that include the following observations: 

  • The brides female friend/bridesmaid etc who usually ends up in floods of tears, as other gals gather round to offer support, advice and, in a couple of cases, make snide remarks to each other out of the poor victims earshot. 
  • The regular crowds of young women that attend in evening `attire` that always seems to consist of dresses where their arse hangs out below the hemline and their tits are crammed into what remains of the material at the other end. I reckon they must use something called a `boob-horn` to get them in, oh and tottering about in shoes like bricks on stilts - the sort I used to see as I walked past Soho sex shops (bondage section) in my beat-pounding days in central London.
  • The sight of `cultured` invited guests and family members turning into horrid, voracious creatures when they suddenly discover that the groom's Dad has stuck £2 grand behind the bar. The mad scramble reminding me of scenes from the film "Zulu" when the warlike hoards, baying for British blood, rush the barricades as the gallant few do and die for Queen and Country. If you want to see how quickly civilisation breaks down, just announce there's a free bar. If you want a generally nice evening, do not make this announcement.
  • Seeing the £2 grand behind the aforementioned bar disappear in less than an hour, along with what little decorum was left, when left to the mercy of people who could well have been the Scottish Olympic drinking team..
  • The smacked-up female guest, pilfering from the handbags of her other friends because she needs to fund another hit, downtown, later that evening. (FFS, who invited her??)
  • A fist fight breaking out between bride and her sister over god knows what.
  • And not forgetting the genuinely lovely people who want to see their nearest and dearest have a wonderful day that they can cherish for hopefully more than a couple of years.
  • PS: What do you call someone with syphilis, gonorrhea and herpes? An incurable romantic.



7 comments:

allcoppedout said...

I find the way the narrative comes almost in the sweep of the eye fascinating. I tend to avoid these shindigs and anything to do with ceremony. This is partly because we still make pretence at decorum in them, lacking the freedom of Norwegian drinking binges. Mainly, it's the routine you describe so well Hog - I'd rather play scrabble.

TonyF said...

I Have 3 daughters. I have three ladders though, so all I need now is a shotgun..Elope or I fire!

Hogday said...

ACO: Thanks for that. Yes, a yob all dressed up in an Armani suit or poncing about in a poncey car, always remains a yob. In amongst all the nice wedding folks there are a lot of the pretenders you alluded to. They always remind me of my days waking up the vagrants sleeping rough along Victoria Embankment Gardens, SW1. Most of the latter had way more `class` and dignity about them than the former.

TonyF: Ouch! You have my respects and good wishes, sir.

Blue Eyes said...

Very "lol"

Hogday said...

Blue. Keep pedalling yu mad sod.

Stressed Out Cop said...

That's why I got married abroad

Hogday said...

I'm a believer in the principle, but boy are there some funny ideas about what constitutes a `good wedding` out there.