Good afternoon ladies,gentleman, children, and members of the jury. I’m the best man and for those ofyou that don’t know me I’m Mike’s younger brother Dave. Firstly on behalf ofthe bridesmaids I’d like to thank Mike for his kind sentiments and I think thateveryone would agree that they all look gorgeous and have done a splendid jobin making today a very emotional event – look, even the cake’s in tiers! (DRUMROLL) But seriously it is apparently very difficult to pout, look pretty andhold flowers all at the same time, especially for an hour so I think a round ofapplause for the bridesmaids is definitely in order.
Mike asked me to be his best manjust before Christmas last year, an honour
which I immediately accepted butuntil I began preparing this speech I didn’t know what was expected of me.Karen came to the rescue and gave me a list of my official duties for the bigday, which I’d like to share with you; firstly help the groom dress, I’m sorrybut I think he should really be able to do that himself by now. Second ensurethat the groom uses the toilet before the service- I know I’m his brother butwe’re not that close: thirdly make sure that his shoes are tied, his flies doneup and his hair combed, face washed and teeth brushed. At this point I wasthinking maybe our Mum should’ve been the best man! Fourth I had to see thatany angry ex-girlfriends were kept out of the way, I don’t anticipate this tobe a problem as I know some of Mike’s exes and I’m sure they’ll be celebratingas much as we are. Last of all I have to make a speech to the Bride and Groom-I thought this meant that Mike, Karen and myself would have a quiet, reflectivecup of tea alone and I’d say my piece. I’m a little upset that I have todeliver it in front of 150 people, but as they say, the show must go on so.
I thought it would be a goodidea to begin my character assassination of Mike by digging out some of themajor world events that occurred in the year both Mike and Karen were born, butfound that absolutely nothing happened in 1973. In fact the main events of thatyear included V.A.T being introduced, driving on Sundays was banned in Holland and I’m sure those of you old enough will recall the terrible news that grippedthe world- there were only 950 windmills left in Europe.
I was presented with a problemwhilst thinking of what stories to tell you
about Mike as I was searching forone that didn’t begin with we “we’re in the pub”, or “we’d been drinking allday”, or “I woke up with a sore head in a Welsh mill covered in pepper, wearing only a Bart Simpson bum bag.” I
didrecall a few such escapades but I don’t think Mike would appreciate me
tellingof the time he and a friend had to jump the Cambodian border in the
dead ofnight, or the time he had his nipple pierced, or when he was nearly
evictedfrom his halls at University or the time he and a guest here today
took it uponthemselves to be lumberjacks in the ‘tall trees’ area of Shaw,
so I won’tmention these.
The story I want to share withyou about my dear brother took place maybe 10 years ago. Michael and Matthew,who my parents were sure was to blame for my brothers wayward behaviour hadenjoyed a few light ales one evening in a local hostelry. Upon arriving homeMichael tip toed to bed so as not to wake mum and dad, quite a feat consideringhis inebriation. Not long after getting to bed, Mike started feeling a littlebit nauseous and in a moment of drunken clarity opted to vomit out of hisbedroom window. This isn’t as foolish as it sounds because the garage roof protrudedunder Mike’s bedroom window so rather than stain the carpet and surely becaught in the morning he hoped the roof and gutter would bear the evidence of avery drunk young man, until the following day when it could easily be washedaway with no repercussions. A great strategy you may think, but with one fatalflaw. The force with which Mike heaved far overshot both the garage roof andthe gutter, but was just enough to land squarely on the windscreen of dad’scar, and there it remained until a very angry dad dragged a very hung overyoung Mike out of bed at 7 am to clean
I wouldn’t like to say that Mikewas a bad influence on me but I’d like to
tell you about our wild drunkenweekends on the town, and I’d like to tell you about how he lead me astray timeand again but to be honest I wish someone would tell me as I can’t reallyremember our nights out of the last 8 years! Mike called it beer amnesia orsomething like that, I don’t really recall.
A few days ago I asked Mike andKaren some questions about each other, what
they were like at school, how theymet and so on. Mike said that at school
Karen was too posh to talk to him butshe insists that it was the geeky
bouffant he sported that kept her away. Buttrue love did flourish five years later in a pub in Manchester (no surprisethere then). Mike casually sauntered over and said, “It’s Karen Wright fromschool, isn’t it?” to which she replied, “yes, hello Phil.”
Speaking of being nervous, Ididn’t think nerves would be a problem for Mike with him being ex-army, soperhaps he could explain why I found these in the toilet this morning. (PRODUCEBRICKS)
To be serious for a moment, I amtold marriage is a splendid thing that takes work and patience but above allMike, you need to be committed, so I have the house doctors waiting outsideready to sign the forms. (DRUM ROLL)
I’m sure I speak for us all inthanking the parents, Mike and Marilyn, and
Theresa and Phil, for their yearsof hard work and dedication in moulding Mike and Karen into the fine upstandingindividuals that they assure me they are. I’d also like to thank you all onbehalf of the parents and the happy couple for eating and drinking your waythrough £10,000 worth of their hard-earned money, condemning their early yearsof wedded bliss to hardship, destitution and debt.
READ THE CARDS with a few comedyones thrown in
On behalf of Mike and Karen I’dlike to thank you all for coming, especially those who’ve travelled longdistances. Personally I wish you’d all stayed at home because things would havebeen much easier for me. So can I ask you all to charge your glasses and joinme in a toast to the next Mr and Mrs Procter.
May your love be modern enough tosurvive the times, and old fashioned enough to last forever. To Mike and Karen.
Finally, if anyone thought I was a bit easy on Mike that’s because fortunately for you lucky people, thespeeches aren’t over yet, so I’d like to ask the Chief Usher, Matthew Quinn,who I’m sure you all know by now, to say a few words. Maff?