I nearly went to a wedding dressed as a hamster. I'd misheard the bride-to-be and thought she'd said the theme was hamsters and moles. Turns out it was gangsters and molls. Luckily, I found out before the big day, but had already googled furry suits and told everyone I was going to a really weird do.
It wouldn't have been the first time I'd made a fool of myself at someone's nuptials though. I was a bridesmaid for my friend Caz, who married the son of a preacher man in Tennessee. Bruce (the groom) liked a brewski with the best of us, but his Momma and Pappy were teetotal, so at the Holiday Inn reception, guests kept sneaking off to their rooms for a livener.
The thing is, I accidentally copped off with one of Bruce's mates when he offered me a top up in room 309. It must have been quite late in the night because we fell asleep afterwards. But the next morning, I was due to meet the newlyweds and all their extended family for brunch in a café down the road. Which I did, fully dressed in a turquoise bridesmaid dress, due to the unknown whereabouts of the rest of my clothes. I was greeted with a mixture of dismay and applause.
There was also the time when I threw up on a tapestry in a really posh castle. I told the bride, Kate, that it was because my wedding breakfast hadn't had time to settle before I started bouncing about to Lip Up Fatty on the dance-floor. It's common knowledge that I'd simply overdone it on the snakebite and schnapps. My friend Annette witnessed the incident and did the right thing by mopping up after me as I made my way to the buffet.
In fact, it was at Annette's wedding that I not only offered to do a lap dance for her dad, but then produced four ounces of breast milk, freshly pumped from my left bosom. I was having to express because my daughter was only two months old and I could still be arsed, with her being my first. The idea was to create an organic Baileys by mixing it with Glenfiddich. It didn't half curdle.
At Sue's wedding, I launched myself into a bush and then offered everyone on my table a lift home. My current boyfriend had been working away and was due to collect me about midnight. He ended up driving half way around West Yorkshire as I'd insisted they all cancel their cabs. His understandable mood took the edge off any welcome back bonhomie I'd had planned.
But in exciting news, my niece is tying the knot in September. It’s a big marquee affair involving gin and a firepit. My sister has already put plans in place to avoid any Bex-related incidents. She's given me the job of looking after mum, who has mild dementia. What could possibly go wrong?