Cancelling comedy hour
My best friend will be hurt if I don’t pick him to be my best man, but I don’t trust him at all to make a suitable speech—what should I do? Of late, the best man’s speech has taken on the tone of a late-night lads’ quiz on Dave—it’s thoroughly regrettable. The best man’s job title is as follows: Stalwart Mainstay, Moral Guardian, Valet de Chambre, Ring-bearer (if one must use that awful American term) and Personal Bodyguard, but not Amateur Post-watershed StandUp Comedian.
Hold your stag-weekend at the Edinburgh Festival, which will curb his ambition or perhaps refine his timing, either of which might help. Place a defibrillator conspicuously on the table in front of the bride’s father and have the Matron of Honour standing by with a shepherd’s crook, ready to haul him off like a dying vaudevillian. Finally, ask the DJ to cue up something lovely—say, Barber’s Adagio for Strings—to drown him out at the first faint whiff of 8 Out of 10 Cats.