12 YEAR OLD SCOTCH WHISKY
COMPETITION
12 YEAR OLD SCOTCH WHISKY
Worst best man
Jaspistos
In Competition No. 1653 you were in- vited to provide an extract from a toe- curling best man's speech at a wedding.
I dreamed up this (as it turned out, rotten) competition in a daze of euphoria following the best wedding I have ever attended, the one celebrating the marriage of Alexander Waugh and Eliza Chancellor. The bride, the ceremony, the food, the fireworks, the place, the port, even the speeches, were impossible to criticise. But I forgot that parodying poor wit is the humorist's unscalable molehill. Your en- tries tended in the direction of the feebly facetious or the saloon-bar raunchy; conse- quently there are only four winners (£20 apiece). They are printed below, headed by Mary Lutyens, who wins the bonus bottle of Chivas Regal 12-year-old de luxe blended whisky for a Tale of the Unex- pected.
This week I cleverly combine my two phobias — making a speech (I am still at virgin at 63, though I've had to perfect policewoman's kung-fu to remain so) and spiders (I was once sent one through the post by an enemy). Read on.
It's my job, I'm told, to propose a toast to the bride and bridegroom — so here's to the prettiest girl in the room — my mother. It's usually the bridegroom's best friend who's the best man. Well, I can truthfully say, my dad and I have always been more like best friends than father and son — so here's to the best pal a chap ever had. I must say I felt a bit choky standing by my father watching my mother being wheeled up the aisle, followed by my dear little grandsons. But now I want to thank you all for coming here today and making it such a jolly occasion for the old dears who will be starting their respectable new life tonight in a nice double room, with some of their own furniture, in the super, high-principled Home my wife's found for them.
(Mary Lutyens)
I just wanna say that Barry and me was always good mates and I know he'll be happy with Sheila. Take my word, she's a goer. I remember when we was in metalwork class together Bas would say, 'I just wanna have a good time.' Well, Sheila's the good time that was had by all. No offence, Bas, just kidding. Anyway, serious- ly, people, they make a great couple, and I think it's wonderful that Barry has found someone who's really tolerant and understanding and not put off by the HIV stories. Believe me, there's not a word of truth in them. And I knoi, Bas will be a good stepfather to Leroy, Malcolm and Martin. Another thing I wanna say before we toast the happy couple is that I'm sure the parents of the bride and groom are thinking of Bas and Sheila right now, and I'm only sorry that a lot of legal red tape is keeping them out of the country. Plod has got a lot to answer for there, but don't let it spoil the occasion.
(Basil Ransome-Davies) Of course, if the statistics are to be believed, in five years' time Clive and Fiona here may well be in some solicitor's office screaming abuse at one another and squabbling over the custody of the kids. I don't believe it. To me, they're perfectly matched — if only because they seem to have absolutely nothing in common — the
traditional formula for success in marriage. Well, not in my case, but that's . . . While we're on the subject of divorce, I know I express everyone's sentiments when I say how good it is to see that both sets of parents have felt able to get together again — at least for these few hours. Well done, Fred and Daphne — sorry, Deirdre — and Basil and Jane — June. What's that? Oh, of course — silly me. It should be the other way about — Fred and June and Basil and Daphne — though I did get it right in one sense, didn't I?!
(Martin Fagg) I'd rather be speaking at my old friend Kevin's funeral — I mean wedding — than anyone else's. Because marriage does change people. It's like Caesar crossing the Rubicon. And what did he do when he'd crossed it? He had a bottle with Pampey — I mean a battle with Pompey. Well, I'm sure Katie and Kevin will stick to the bottle. Well, the proof of the pudding is in the eating — not that Katie is in the least bit like a pudding. When she takes a fence on horseback the horse hardly knows she's on it. Of course she sometimes isn't and riding can be risky. Chap I knew had a fall and was paralysed from the waist down. Or was it the neck up? Come to think of it, marriage is rather like horse racing — a two-horse race — and let's hope this one ends in a dead heat.
(Richard Blomfield)
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