If you are having a wedding in the family and you are inviting VIPs or celebrities please don’t call me. There is nothing more disconcerting than standing there looking fatuous holding a pink wrapped gift when three guys with sten guns suddenly barge in to sanitise the place before the Minister pops in. And the hosts have now got so excited about this arrival that you do not count for diddley and they are rushing about bowing and scraping like windshield wipers on full strength as his eminence arrives. Security pushes you aside and the bride and bridegroom forget the brave 500 who rode into the valley of love with blessings in their heart so they can be photographed with the honourable whoever as Black Cats give you steely glares.
I am at one of these invasions and there are three men discussing the weaponry instead of the wedding finery.
That’s a Glock 9mm.
No, I think it is a Heckler and Kotch MP5.
Naaah, that’s a Walther P99, it fires hollow points with a muzzle velocity of…
This is not the sort of conversation one should be having when a man and a woman are plighting their troth and stuff and Cupid is sharpening his arrows. It is also harrowing to go for the shrimp tempura when the commando is waving a Smith and Wesson .45 cal at you. What if it goes off and you become the dip.
It gets worse if the scruffy Minister is replaced by a film star or cricketer. Then there is that pande…pendem… pendomo… you know that word which means chaos but you cannot spell it. It reigns or something.
And it sure does. The bride forgets the groom, the star attraction trots in all spangled and shiny and hugs the couple and we are all marginalized witnesses to an orgy of photographs seeing as how we are now as redundant as yesterday’s lettuce. Now, the guests get into the act and shout out the star’s name and push and shove each other to get a better view and hold their kids aloft like they were watching Caesar deplaning into Rome after knocking off Pompey. The food service freezes as the waiters sally off to stare at the hero and even the pundit is dumped as he sits in solitary splendor round the spluttering holy fire, the auspicious moment for the nuptials put on celestial ‘hold’ till matinee idol has given his ‘aashirwad’ and waved at all of us reluctant extras. And people like me who don’t know one Khan from another are now wondering seeing as how I flew down for this wedding (wife’s orders) and am now of no importance should I push off with the pink wrapped gift and get a refund.
Now, that is a thought.