Metro column 11

Richard Herring: My wedding day surprisingly went off without a hitch
Richard Herring has finally tied the knot – and, with no sign of fantasy girl Amy Pond at the ceremony, things went surprisingly smoothly.

We did it! We got married. We both turned up at the right place and repeated the right words in the right order. There were a nervous few minutes when my bride didn’t arrive at the appointed hour and the registrar darted in and out of the room with a dark look on his face. I thought my love had come to her senses at the last possible minute but she’d just needed the loo.

Pity. In my imagination, she and Amy Pond were fighting for me in the corridor outside, pulling each other’s hair, ripping off each other’s clothes, rubbing wedding cake over each other’s bodies… but Amy, despite my warnings (and my specially concealed corridor videocam), didn’t show. You’ve got a time machine, Amy, you can still go back and correct your error.

We were getting hitched at Marylebone Town Hall, in the very same room that Sir Paul McCartney has been married in twice (don’t worry, it was the good two – I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d paid to have the venue of his second wedding burnt to the ground). However, the room was surprisingly unshowbiz and there was a stain on the carpet just where we had to stand so it looks like my bride wasn’t the only one to have had last-minute nerves. But there’s last-minute and then there’s last-minute…

Marriage is a solemn contract but I am glad to say the ceremony and the whole day was filled with laughter and joy, right from the start. The bride was preceded up the aisle by four bridesmaids, three of them tiny and wide-eyed and dazzled at being the centre of attention. There had been no rehearsal and although they were supposed to sit down when they got to the front, they just carried on walking until there was no place for them to go, creating a bottleneck of tiny angels that my nearly wife and her dad were now heading towards. A dangerous slow-motion pile-up was somehow narrowly avoided. Luckily, it was cute and funny and a perfect way to relax everyone, including us.

My mum got a surprise in the middle of the ceremony, as I had forgotten to inform her that she was one of the witnesses. Hopefully, she’d been paying attention throughout and not checking Twitter on her phone or the whole marriage will be void.

The laughs kept coming, though. At the wedding breakfast, each guest had two small tubs at their place setting, one containing mints, the other lip balm. I wouldn’t have expected to get lip balm at a wedding but we were in a classy hotel and it was a nice touch. But it confused my 75-year-old Somerset dad, not used to our city ways, who ended up eating his lip balm in the mistaken belief it was cheese.

I don’t know why he thought the hotel had given him such a tiny amount of cheese in such an odd receptacle or, indeed, why he hadn’t realised it wasn’t cheese once he was eating it, but he scoffed the lot. Luckily, this came too late for my wife to realise what an idiotic family she had married into and what kind of genes she was in danger of passing on. But we’re an idiotic family with the most moisturised intestinal tracts that you’ll ever see. Every cloud…

None of this yet seems real, apart from the happiness and love I feel for my amazing wife, who now has the same name as my mum, Mrs Herring. Weird.

Richard Herring is currently touring Britain with his show, What Is Love, Anyway?

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