...attending the wedding of a friend of mine, with a group of mutual chums. It is always nice to be reminded that at least some peoples' lives are progressing. Here are some highlights :

- Due - amongst other things - to the village in which the ceremony was being held not being signposted anywhere, we almost didn't make it to the church on time. Fortunately, another chum was much later; and she was the organist, so this bought us some time. I liked that the bride's family had exercised rigid control over every other aspect of the ceremony - the venue, the vicar, the readings etc. - and the one thing entrusted to our friend (the groom) almost caused disaster. Sadly I wasn't privy to the moment when the extremely agitated vicar met up with the organist and her boyfriend outside the church, and asked "Are you the organist ?", at which point the boyfriend looked the overwrought cleric (donned in full regalia) up and down, and responded "Yes - are you the vicar ?"

- The service went well, with the possible exceptions of the obligatory screaming toddlers; the bride bursting into tears both as she entered the church, and during the vows; and certain members of our section of the pews being almost reduced to a blubbering mass as the vicar solemnly explained "the importance of the ring".

- As we drove between the church and the reception, I was in the middle of a convoy of three cars, with an elderly lady relative of the groom's following behind. We lost the car we were trailing at the first lights, so I had to rely on my navigator to get me across the centre of Leicester. I kept forgetting that I was being followed, and - as I was really looking forward to ditching Ora and filling my face with sweet elixir - would amber gamble on occasions. I would fly through a light just as it was turning red, and remember a few seconds afterwards about the old dear; at which point I would look in my mirror, to see the poor terrified relative still clutching to my tail, having fully run a red light. This happened three times.

- The bride's father's speech was really quite something. I had heard that he had spoken about the holocaust at his other daughter's wedding, and thus thought I was prepared. I didn't expect a lecture on concentration camps, the moral significance of a church wedding, a censuring of the practice of lighting bonfires and fireworks... To be fair, I don't think anybody did, and the entire room was rendered aghast. I feel I have to break down some of the points (although sadly I didn't give the speech as much attention as it deserved, as I kept drifting in and out of consciousness). Firstly, the holocaust. I'm not saying that it's not a significant event, from which the world can hopefully learn, but please - at your daughter's wedding ? Unless he likens marrying the groom to senseless brutality, in which case fair enough. Secondly, he brayed on about the bride and groom's choice of having a church wedding as having a deeper moral and religious significance than just having a pretty venue. Despite the fact that this had been one of his impositions. And thirdly, we should all be ashamed of ourselves for celebrating a man being burned alive, but they were going to make a concession by giving us all sparklers rather than a full bonfire and fireworks display. Aside from the fact that this was historically inaccuate (I'm fairly sure that Guy Fawkes was hanged, drawn and quartered), well... what the fuck ? Sadly, I was sitting asleep at the point when he implored us not to imagine that we were burning a human being whilst using our sparklers. Because that's what people usually think of when they're writing their names in the air. This whole speech was enhanced by the fact that - despite all being written down - it seemed all very stream of consciousness, and the speaker looked just like Harold Shipman. I'm amazed anyone clapped.

- Fortunately, the reception was saved by the speeches of the groom's father, the groom himself, and the best man (though his had been heavily censored beforehand by the bride and her family); and also by the delicious scran, and the sweet, sweet booze.

- After the reception, we got a mini-bus back to our hotel in Melton Mowbray (unsavoury home of the savoury pork pie), and decided to hit the town for a final round of drinks. This was also quite something. A fight broke out in the pub we were frequenting, as an unseemly woman with her breasts almost flapping out attacked another woman, screaming at her that she was a lesbian. Nobody seemed in a hurry to break this fight up, and then it spilled onto a couple of my friends. As the fight started to get a bit out of hand, we decided to leave. Then a friend gave his girlfriend a drunken piggy-back, which very soon led to a people-pavement interface. Wot larx.

- I drove about 650 miles this weekend. But it was worth it just for seeing a sign for a town called Weedon, the 'KKK Petshop' (how can one not envision a kitty upon a burning cross, surrounded by hamsters in pointy white hoods ?), and the 'Gashi Gashi' restaurant (with subheading 'A Taste Of Japan'). Oh, and it was also worth it to see my chum getting married to the woman he loves. Hooray.

P.S. Thank you to Bub and Dogg, whose jokes I stole to make this entry possible.