My sister's boyfriend works as a DJ, and as such my sister gets +1 free entry into lots of weddings.
And as such she's been imparting me with her great wisdom of Wedding Horror Stories, the Wedding's that when wrong when her boyfriend was 'DJ'ing'
1. The Rained out Wedding
During one wedding reception, the hotel caught on fire. To prevent the place from burning down the emergency sprinklers came on, and a wet, slightly sobered wedding party was removed to the evacuation point on the hotel greens while the Fire Engines tackled the blaze
2. Glad I crashed the Wedding
When a wedding reception was crashed by a group of uninvited drunk men, the bride assumed it was the grooms fault and an argument started. In the meantime the crashers got out of control, the police were called and a riot commenced. By the end of the night people were falling through windows.
3. This man is Best
And finally (and I fear the most likely kind of thing to happen at our wedding) when the 'happy couple' were a little drunk, the groom decided the bride was dancing a little too ‘close’ to the best man.
It is not, it seems, the best idea to accuse the bride of adultery on her Wedding night, I imagine many flowers were thrown, and eventually the bride took the keys and stormed off in the wedding car. The groom was left behind.
In the meantime, wishing to be as useful as possible, my sister helped herself to the buffet to make sure no food was wasted.
Exactly why my sister told me these I can’t be sure, but it has had at least one positive outcome.
Her boyfriend will not be the DJ at our Wedding Reception.
Thursday, May 24
Dearly Beloved, Lets Get Ready To Rumble!
Thursday, April 26
Wheels on Fire
18:16
I was walking past the construction site.
A man was leaning against the wall. He stared at me as I went past, then walked to his car, a Peugeot 205, old and grey, parked up on the opposite side of the car park. I paid him no attention. My thoughts were tired. I was nearly home and looking forward to getting out of the bluesy rain that tapped on the streets like a lazy Fred Astaire.
The car started its engine, and I moved towards the side of the road, closer to the building site, to let it pass. It pulled out of the parking space, and crawled towards me, moved to be just behind me. But it didn't go past me. Instead it kept pace with me as I walked, always just a few feet behind.
I turned to face the driver. He was staring straight ahead, dressed in an old grey suit, his hair balding. He seemed not to have noticed me.
I stopped; the car stopped tool as if it was attached to me be some unseen force.
The driver was still looking straight ahead, immobile, as if he were just another part of the vehicles mechanics. The engine was running, but the wheels was glued to the ground as if they had never had any intention of moving. I waved him past. He didn’t notice, or at least made no effort to drive on. So I started walking again.
I’d got about five steps when the headlights on the car flickered on, illuminating me in a circle of light, like an actor under the spotlight. The engine was revving into life. I turned, squinting against the lights and saw the driver head on. A flash of recognition ran through my skull and tried to find something to link too.
The car was growling, the engine roaring. He reached down, released the handbrake and the rear wheels began to spin.
I jumped out of the way just in time. The car crashed through the metal fences around the building site and skidded to a halt. The driver, fuming with rage, threw the car into reverse. There could only be one reason he was here. I checked my coat pocket, making sure the PDA was safe. He would never get the files.
He reversed the car out of the fences at a suicidal speed, skidded the vehicle around to face me and slammed it back into drive. He was revving the engine again, playing with the accelerator like a volume control, building my fear with a crescendo of noise.
I began to run, not daring to look back. The brake was released; there was the screech of rubber on tarmac as the tires hit the road. He was accelerating towards me. The door to my flat was suddenly in front of me, a few feet away. I reached for my keys, fumbling to find the right one. The car was getting closer, biting at my feet like a dog on my trail.
I hit the door running, forced the key in the lock, and turned. The car sped towards me, as if he intended to bring the whole apartment block down. Then the flat door flew open, I fell into the hallway and he turned the wheel sharply right. The car went into a skid, its left side bouncing off the building spitting off stale sparks into the night. The sound of shredding metal went ripping through the air. And I was safe.
And then I was inside the hallway, out of breath, panting. The car that had pulled out of the parking space was driving slowly past my front door, undamaged, the driver careful and slow. From behind the wheel the late-middle-aged man, a normal person coming home from a normal day job, looked at me in confusion, trying to work out why I’d just ran to my front door in a morbid fear the second he started his engine.
Sometimes I let my imagination run away with me.
And so I entered my flat, changed out of my wet clothes and spent another night living my sleepy little existence.
And outside the skies burst open and the rain poured down in its torrents, drowning out the drama of the world around me, and washing the smell of burning rubber out into the night.
Tuesday, March 13
Book-A-Minute
Being a writer (working on a novel I got the idea for two days ago) I am also a very keen reader.
Currently I'm reading Wurthering Heights. I started because it came free on my PDA rather than because of a desire to look posh, but have found myself somewhat obsessed with the trials of Heathcliff and Cathy. I've also found myself mentally phrasing sentences in 19th century tongue,
'Tis no fault of mine that the sales be not forthcoming you blackhearted wench'However there are certain books that I've never got round to liking. Including the Lord of the Rings Trilogy.
I should read them, I know after all the English speaking world is split into two 'Those who've read Lord of the Rings and the Hobbit and those who haven't,' but then it is also split into two by those who believe everything on Living TV, and no one is entirely sure what side is the right side to be on.
But I find the books remarkably dull, and needlessly long. Tolkien describes everything in pathetic amounts of detail.
"On the way, there was a leaf which had fallen like a feather from a tree, and not wishing to crumble it's delicate frame, which was browning in the first breaths of autumn, the Fellowship walked around it, placing one foot in front of the other, as was the custom until they reached the other side. "
Thankfully, I have found someone who agrees with me - Book-A-Minute SF/F
Here are their definitions of the three books.
The Fellowship of the ring
Gandalf Bilbo Baggins, your Ring is evil. In a couple decades, we'll try to destroy it. In the meantime, leave it for Frodo to play with.Bilbo Baggins It's not evil. It's mine. My precious. Mine! MINE, I TELL YOU!! MOOHOOHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!(Frodo takes it to RIVENDELL. Some FRIENDS come with him. They are attacked by black riders a LOT, and it is SCARY.)
Elrond Frodo Baggins, if Sauron ever gets this Ring, the world will be destroyed, and evil will reign forever. We must act quickly. Take the Ring to where he lives.(They do some travelling. Some more FRIENDS come with him. Gandalf DIES in the mines of Moria, but will later be RESURRECTED in GLORIFIED form having triumphed over EVIL, an obvious literary ALLUSION to that movie where the guy comes back as a DOG.)
Boromir Frodo Baggins, give me the Ring.Frodo No.Boromir What have I done? (dies)
The two Towers
(Gandalf frees THEODEN and overthrows SARUMAN. A bunch of IRRELEVANT stuff happens. Then the PLOT starts up again.)
The Return of The King
Aragorn We must travel the Paths of the Dead.Eowyn You'll die.(They don't.)
Gandalf The Hordes of Mordor will destroy Minis Tirith.(They don't.)
Gandalf We must attack Mordor. We'll all be killed.(They aren't.)
Gollum Mmmm, yummy finger! (dies)Frodo The Ring has been destroyed, but now we will die in Mordor.Sam Buck up, Master Frodo.(A bunch of feathered DEUS EX MACHINAS come out of NOWHERE and save EVERYBODY.)
That's the kind of length they should have been written in the first place...
Monday, January 29
100 Word Story
Podcasting.Isfullofcrap is the home of the 100 word story - amusing tales you can threaten to read to the kids before bed.
New Scientist however, is a technical podcast with a slightly humourous element.
One of the competitions on New Scientist was to find out how many bones there are in the human hand. I began to wonder how you could discover such a thing.
The result of my pondering was a 100 word story - and an alarming insight into my thoughts.
He walked over to me, slowly.
‘Give me your hand,’ I said. He shied back, avoiding my eyes.
‘Come on! It’ll be fun.’ I said, smiling.
Nervously he held it out.
‘Not that one.’
He held out the left. I took it in mine.
‘You want daddy to win that competition don’t you, all that money?’
‘Please!’ he whispered
‘You can help me count the bones afterwards if you like. We’ll win together.’
I moved his hand towards the workbench
‘Now, be a good boy, and keep still.’
And pinning his wrist to the bench, I reached for the hacksaw.