Part Six- "The Best Man"

When I look back now, I swear that Danny was only in hospital for about 2 days, but by the time he came out the wedding was practically upon us. He was able to walk just about OK on his own, but he usually had his hospital issued crutches with him, just in case. There were other times though when he claimed that it was all too much for him and he insisted on using the wheelchair our Grandmother used to use.

The times that he did use the wheelchair, Danny would claim it was because the crutches were rubbing him uncomfortably under the arms and he couldn't possibly use them today. To be honest, it was pretty obvious to me that it was complete bollocks. I quickly began to notice that every time Danny claimed his crutches were rubbing, was when it was hammering it down with rain and we were driving somewhere with a disabled parking spot right next to the door and it meant he didn't have to get so wet.

One such occasion was Danny's Stag do, which took place the Saturday before Danny & Dani were due to get married.

A week before the Stag do, Danny had rung me up and started barracking me with questions.

"So where are we going next weekend then?"

"Hello, to you to Dan."

"Oh yeah, hello. Where are we going?"

"What do you mean?"

"My stag do. My last Saturday as a free man. You hadn't forgotten had you?

"Oh no, I hadn't forgotten." (I had.)

"I thought you might have given it a bit of thought as to where we might go."

"Oh, I had given it some though." (I hadn't.)

"So where are we going then?"

"Erm…"

I'd been so uptight and tense about the wedding and more in particular about doing a speech that I had completely forgotten about all the other tasks and responsibilities that a Best Man has. Including, incredibly, the Stag night – how the hell I could forget that, God knows.

"Well," I continued trying desperately not to sound like I was just pulling a name out of my head, "how about Skaters?"

"No!" It was an emphatic "no" too. Skaters was the name of the club we used to go to when we were younger and was populated by 16 year old girls and 50 year old men in the middle of a mid-life crisis trying to prove to themselves (and usually failing) that they could still pull a teenage girl. It was quite a hideous place to go, why that place popped in to my head at that point, I do not know. But after I gave it a second's thought I knew Danny was right.

"I want to go somewhere not around here."

"How about Nottingham?" I had just read somewhere that Nottingham was the English capital of stag parties, so I thought it was a fair place to suggest.

"No, we can't that's where Dani's going." For a second I thought that Danny was talking about himself in the third person, but it soon twigged what he meant.
"No", he continued, "I want to go to somewhere like Prague or Amsterdam or Vilnius."

"Vilnius?" I replied, "For a start, I don't know where Vilnius is. But I'm guessing like Prague and Amsterdam we'd have to fly. And to be honest Dan I think it's too late to book now. Even if they have got seats left on the plane, at this late stage Mr Easy-Jet will probably charge us so much for the flight we won't have any cash left for somewhere to stay or for something to drink."

It probably wasn't true and I felt mean for saying it, but I just had a feeling in my bones that going overseas would have been a disaster. Luckily Danny paid attention to me for once, though not for the reasons I thought he would.

"And there wouldn't be any money left for you to get me a lap dancer either would there?"

I didn't say anything other than, "So I think we had better stick to this country. How about…" I paused for a bit whilst I thought of a few possible cities. London – no, too expensive. Birmingham – no, too full of Brummies. Cardiff - no, I know what some of Danny's mates are like, they would have probably started to serenade the locals with verses of Swing Low, Sweet Chariot and who knows what sort of trouble that would get us in. And then, a random name just flitted in to my mind, "Brighton?"

Danny smiled and I knew we had got it.

So the following Saturday, me, Danny and six of his friends got into the people-carrier I'd hired and headed down to the south coast. On the way we stopped off at a paintball field and proceeded to shoot the living crap out of each other using small pellets of Dulux, it was great fun.

After that we went straight (well via a pub or two) to Brighton (I insisted that we went to no-more pubs, because until we got to our final location I couldn't have a beer). We checked into a youth hostel and got changed to go out to dinner.
It was absolutely hammering it down with rain and Danny insisted that he took the wheelchair, rather than him having to walk. (We weren't driving, so bang went my theory about the disable parking spaces.) I'd only reluctantly agreed to bring the chair along, hoping that he wouldn't want it, but unfortunately he did.

Danny led the way wheeling his way up the road. He wheeled into the Chinese restaurant where we had a pretty damn good slap-up meal. Then when we'd finished he wheeled it into a pub and then another and then another. He tried to wheel it into a fourth pub, but there was a step and he couldn't get in. Danny shouted towards a Bouncer, who gave him a look as if to say "fuck-off". But when Danny started shouting something about suing them in-line with the Disability rights act, that same bouncer brought us over each a complimentary pint. My brother is absolutely remarkable sometimes.

After that, Danny decided it was time to head to the "Gentleman's Club" as he put it. We asked the Bouncer who had bought us the drinks where the best place was to go and he directed us right next door. Just before Danny wheeled himself inside, he shouted back to me, "Don't forget the lap-dancer, Jack".

I followed Danny and his friends inside and stopped to pay my cover-fee to get in. I asked the girl at the desk if I could arrange a dance for my Brother and she asked who my brother was. I told her it was the one in the wheelchair and she immediately said it would cost more money. I started to mutter something about the disability rights act and she just gave me a look that told me to shut up before I went any further. So I handed over the cash and she told me Donna would be over to see Jack in about 20 minutes.

I walked into the club itself, with my wallet considerably lightened. Jack was sat at a table watching the floor show whilst all his friends (John, Pete, Mikey, Stuey, Davey and Fred) were at the bar getting drinks. Danny was enjoying the floor-show too much to notice that his friends were clearly planning something. They kept glancing over to where we were sitting and breaking out into fits of laughter.

I really knew something was going on when they came back to the table and each said "Alright, Dan" in a very funny way when they sat down. I said nothing though. Half-an-hour later Donna arrived at the table, and that's when the fun began.

Danny sat in his wheelchair and Donna started to gyrate in front of him. Danny had a big grin on his face and the closer and closer Donna got to him the bigger his smile got.

She climbed on top of the chair and was really going some with her hips. Unfortunately, something happened (to this day I don't know what) and the wheelchair brake managed to get released. The Chair, Danny and Donna all managed to tip over backwards sending everything flying. Tables, chairs, drinks, glasses, ice, cigarette butts, ashtrays, everything was just strewn all over the floor.

Donna, stood up and ran off. Before we knew a man came over to us, I thought he was going to help us clear all the mess up, but instead he (with great ease) picked Danny up off the floor and dumped him back into the wheelchair. He then started pushing the chair, with Danny in it towards the door and out of sight.
We all quickly followed, and arrived at the door in time to see the man give Danny a great big shove in his wheelchair. The shove forced him down the street and straight into a concrete bollard. For the second time in 10 minutes Danny was lying on his back having come out of his wheel chair.

"I'm OK." he called out.

That seemed to be a trigger to Mikey, who shauted out "Now!" and he John, Pete, Stuey, Davey & Fred all rushed towards that heap on the floor that was Danny.

"No!!!!" Cried Danny as they all started ripping clothes his clothes of him. They did a bloody thoroughly good job and even managed to get his socks. They chucked the clothes in the wheelchair and ran off. Danny managed to stand up and shouted "Bastards!" at them as they headed into the distance.

He stood there leaning on the concrete bollard absolutely bollock naked, not quite knowing what to do with himself. I was in tears of laughter, I don't think I have ever laughed so much in my entire life.

And then it got even better, in the distance there was the sound of a police siren and a thought suddenly occurred to me.

"Danny, what are you going to do? They'll arrest you. I know you can't run, what with your leg, you'd better hide."

"I fucking run fine now." he shouted at me as he ran up the street, with his flabby white arse glowing orange in the light of the street lamps.

I laughed and then answered my mobile, the police siren-like ring tone stopping the second I pressed the green answer button. It was Dani on the other end, wondering how her betrothed was doing. "He's fine I said, a bit occupied at the moment, but he's fine. I'll get him to ring you tomorrow. Oh yes, and by the way, I don't think he's going to want to use the wheelchair at the wedding any more."

"Oh brilliant", she replies, "That's great. Bye." She hung up.

Danny had threatened to use the wheelchair at the wedding, in a way to "prove" he really was still quite badly injured. A week later, Danny didn't wheel down the aisle, he walked.

"The Best Man" is copyright Angus Burns 2007.

Part Five - "The Best Man"

Two days later I met Danny's fiancée for the first time.

I was sitting by Danny's bed as was recovering from the after effects of the anaesthetic. I had survived our little argument with the roadside bollard without so much as a scratch, and to tell you the truth so had Danny. Unfortunately he hadn't noticed that at the side of the road, where we pulled over to wait for the man from the AA, was a ditch. And Danny being Danny he managed to fall into it. This was why I was sat next to his bed waiting for him to come round from an operation to attach a metal rod to his broken right leg.

The rest of the ward was quite quiet; the other men in there had visitors, but they pretty much kept levels conversation to a minimum. The library like levels of noise meant that I could easily pick out the rather loud voice asking the nurse on the front desk where Danny was.

"I'm looking for my fiancé Danny."

I looked up; the speaker was quite an attractive brunette, if somewhat on the short side. She looked as if she should be quite timid, but she seemed anything but. Boy, her voice was loud.

"No problem, what's his surname?" Asked the nurse, who seemed somewhat taken aback by the volume generated by this incredibly petite girl.

"Oh, I actually don't know it."

I stood up and started walking towards the desk. I knew that this had to be my brother's Betrothed. It was the type of thing he would do; agree to marry someone without even exchanging some basic piece of information such as each other's last names.

"You are getting married and you don't even know his full name?" the nurse asked somewhat quizzically, but with no small hint of accusation in her voice.

Before Danny's fiancée could respond I interrupted.

"Hi."

"Hello." She said, quite clearly not realising I was about to help her out of a bit of a sticky spot.

"I'm Jack, Danny's brother."

"Oh hello!" She took my hand and started shaking it vigorously and then turned to the nurse, "This man is going to be my brother-in-law."

"Apparently so." Replied the nurse with hint of mocking in her voice and then pretended to get on with some paper work.

"Sorry," I said to Danny's fiancée as I guided her towards Danny, "But I don't actually know your name."

"It's Danielle."

I laughed.

"What's so funny?" she asked.

"You really don't know our surname, do you?"

"No, why?"

"It's Daniels."

"Oh…"

"Yes. So you two are going to become Mr and Mrs Daniel & Danielle Daniels."

"Oh." She looked slightly startled. "Is his name really Daniel Daniels?"

"Our parents had a rather odd sense of humour. If they were still around they would love it that he was marrying someone call Danielle."

She shrugged and very quickly seemed to accept that slightly odd name they would have as a married couple. But then you could see something in her eyes that had just occured to her. "But you've got a normal name."

"No, think about it. I'm Jack Daniels. Or as my friends like to call me, And Coke."

She had a blank look on her face. I had come up with that little "And Coke" joke about 10 years ago and had told it at least 30 times. Not once had a single person ever come remotely close to laughing at it and it didn't look as if Danielle was about top break that trend.

Danielle quickly broke the silence that followed. "So how's Danny?"

"He'll be ok. It will take a while for his leg to set in place and then he'll need some physio work but the Doctor says after a two or three months he should make a full recovery."

"That's good because I was going to tell him that I've found the perfect place for the Wedding, but they only had one slot left. So I booked it."

"You only got engaged on Saturday and now you've got the date set ?"

"Yep."

"So when is it then?"

"Exactly four months from today."

One word went through my mind, shit. And it went through my mind repeatedly; shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit. Just four months till speech day, shit.

"So soon, I'm not sure Danny will be well enough by then."

"Don't you bloody worry Babe; I'll be back on my feet by then." Danny had woken up.

Danielle suddenly dived on to the bed next to him; somehow carefully snaking herself around the traction that his leg was in and they started kissing. They kept on kissing and it soon became a sight I didn't really want to witness, it was probably time for me to leave. On my way out I decided, for the protection of the innocence of the little girl visiting her father in the bed opposite, to draw the curtain around the couple as they got rather too carried away.

"The Best Man" is copyright Angus Burns 2007

Part Four - "The Best Man"

The first thought that came to mind was not joy for my brother, or even surprise at how quickly all of this had happened, but fear. All of a sudden I realised that I had to make a speech. It wasn't so much that I was fearful of public speaking (although the thought of it did send shivers down my spine – and to be honest despite all the recent practice, it still does), but that I had to speak in front of a crowd of people and make them laugh.

I wasn't a completely humourless individual back then. I had on occasion been known to crack a killer joke that would leave others rolling around on the floor with tears in their eyes. But I had also been known to tell jokes that fell so flat as to leave tumbleweeds rolling around and nothing but boredom in people's eyes.

When it came to comedy, I wasn't just inconsistent, I was also very random too. Sometimes I would make people laugh without meaning to (which when I was trying to be serious was a very disconcerting – I didn't know if they were laughing at me or believed that they were laughing with me). Then there would be times that I'd think of a gag that I was sure would have them rolling in the metaphorical aisles but would bring not the sound of laughter but the sound of a whistling wind and the distant call of a church clock chiming the midnight hour.

So the thought of having to stand up in front of a group of about 100 people, some of whom I didn't even know (and worse some of whom I knew quite well), was so pant soilingly awful that the mere thought of it gave me stomach cramps.

The day of the wedding came before I knew it, but I still hadn't written my speech. I sat at the reception, on Danny's right hand side, sweating. Danny's new father-in-law tapped his glass to bring the room to a silence and raced through his speech so quickly that, before I knew it he was saying, "And now ladies and gentlemen I give you Daniel's brother Jack, the best-man."

The audience politely applauded and I got unsteadily to my feet. I looked at all the faces looking up at me, waiting expectantly. A small dribble of sweat ran all the way down my back and in doing so sent a shiver down my spine.

I cleared my throat, wondering what the hell I was going to say. This was surely going to be a catastrophe, it would be remembered as the wedding where the best-man just stood there and said nothing. I cleared my throat again and then a third time. I could see the audience beginning to shuffle in their seats and cast glances at each other, so I thought I'd better say something. I opened my mouth to speak, but instead of words, I just let out a long scream, "AAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!"

Suddenly I realised that I wasn't alone in screaming, I looked to my right and Danny was screaming along with me. It was then I realised that I wasn't actually at the wedding, but still in the car after the match. I'd obviously fallen asleep, but whilst I'd been asleep Danny had succeeded in crashing the car.

"The Best Man" is copyright Angus Burns 2007.

Part Three - "The Best Man"

The first time, when I lost my Wedding virginity, was most definitely the best. My brother asked me to be his Best Man and I said yes. Well, he didn’t so much ask me as tell me; and I didn’t so much say yes as to agree and note the date in my diary and then started to crap myself about making a speech.

For reasons I have long since forgotten we had decided to travel half way across the country to see Lincoln City play Doncaster Rovers in the second division. Neither of us supports either Lincoln or Doncaster and as it was 12th versus 18th in the bottom division of the English professional football leagues it meant that it wasn’t much of an obviously attractive game to go and watch. But as with most things Danny (my brother) did, it was a last minute, spur of the moment decision. He decided that he was going to go to a pointless football match, so he went. And he decided that I was going was going to go with him, so I went too.

It was only during the two-hour-plus drive to the game that I discovered that Danny even had a girlfriend, by the end of the match she had become his fiancée and I had become his Best Man.

Driving along a country road, Danny’s phone rang and he answered it quite quickly. I could only hear Danny’s side of the conversation, but to be honest I didn’t really care what was being said because every time Danny changed gear he would take his free hand off the wheel and the car would lurch to the left. The fourth time it happened the front passenger wheel of the car ran across the grass verge on the side of the road and I grabbed steering wheel to keep the car in a straight line. Seeing the look on my face Danny soon hung up his call and took back full control of the car.

“Sorry about that.”

“That’s ok. Just let me know the next time you want to kill me so I can take the appropriate action.”

“I’m not trying to kill you,” Danny replied, “Just to scare the shit out of you.”

“So I’ll die from a heart attack rather than in a car crash. That’s ok then.”

“Sorry Jack, it was…” Danny tailed off; it was as if he deliberately didn’t want to tell me who it was on the phone. “I really hate missing her calls.”

“So, new girlfriend then?” I asked.

“Yeah, well not so new as it happens. We’ve been together about four months.”

“Four months! You’ve kept her quiet.”

“Not really… Well yeah I suppose I have. I don’t know why, it wasn’t deliberate. It’s just a bit different this time. It’s a bit weird.”

“Weird, why? She’s not married is she?”

“No.”
“Boyfriend then?”

“No, not at all.”

“Is it you? Have you got someone else on the go?”

“God no, not at all.” Danny was definitely emphatic about that.

He sat and thought for a while, a couple of times he went to say something, but stopped himself at the last second. Eventually he spoke.

“It’s weird because I have never felt like it before, it’s like its too perfect. You know?”

I didn’t know, but I didn’t say anything and let him continue.

“It’s almost as if I were to tell anyone about how good things are, they would tell me it’s all bollocks and it will all go away and I really don’t want it to go away.”

I didn’t know what to say; in the 26 ears since Danny had been born I had never heard him be so earnest or honest. I wanted to act, for once, like his big brother, give him some advice or tell him how pleased I was for him, but words failed me, so I said the only thing that came to mind.

“Well don’t let it go away then.”

“I won’t mate,” he replied, “I won’t.”

We arrived at the ground half an hour later - having survived only one more near crash (pretty good going for Danny) – we quickly found our seats in the main stand. Somehow my seat managed to have a pillar blocking both goals – not that it mattered in the first half, neither net was anywhere near threatened. It was hardly thrilling game.

Ten minutes before half-time I’d had enough and decided to head to the little shed in the corner of the ground to buy a Bovril and a meat pie.

By the time I had returned to my seat, with a cup of tea and a hamburger (apparently Bovril and meat pies went out of fashion years ago – at least in Lincoln), Danny had a strange look in his eyes.

“Well,” he said, “I took your advice.”

“Good.” Then I stopped and thought for a second. As far as I could remember the last time I had given Danny any advice was when he was fifteen and I had told him not to let our parents catch him coming home at 3am steaming drunk. It was advice he had ignored and I didn’t recall advising him in any way since. “What advice?”

“Earlier, you said not to let it go away. So I’m not. I’m getting married.”

“Wow.” For the second time that day, Danny had left me not quite knowing what to say. “Wow.”

“Aren’t you going to congratulate me?”

“Sorry. Wow. Yes of course. Congratulations. Wow. Brilliant.” My powers of conversation has failed me, I can’t remember the last time I had been so taken aback. I did however manage to get one question out. “How did this happen?”

“Just now, I gave her a call and told her about our conversation in the car and told her I didn’t want to let her go. So she asked if I was asking her to marry me, I said yes and then she said yes and now I’m getting married.”

“Wow.”

“I hope you are going to say more than wow at the wedding. Because you are going to be my Best Man.”

“Am I?”

“Yes.”

“O.K.” and then under my breath, I muttered one more thing. “Wow.”

"The Best Man" is copyright Angus Burns 2007.

Part Two - "The Best Man"

A little later on, when the Bride and the Groom had got up to go and circulate around all the tables, I was left sitting on my own like a lemon at the front of the room when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around and saw a vaguely familiar face beaming back at me as if I were a long lost brother who had finally been found after years of searching.

“Excellent!”

“Thank you” I replied.

“No seriously, once again you were truly excellent…”

Once again?! My mind suddenly started racing, had I met this beaming idiot before? Probably, I’d met so many beaming idiots over the last few months (and idiots do seem to beam a lot when they are at a wedding).

“Admittedly you did use some of the same material as you did for me, but you were still excellent.”

Oh God! I’d been his Best Man too, I’d always known that one day something like this would come back and bite me on the bum.

“Well, you know” I replied, “Some things are just funny and if you can’t laugh at someone cross-dressing as a Nun more than once, then there’s something obviously wrong with the world.”

I didn’t actually quite know what I had meant by saying that, but the man I was talking to seemed to understand, so I didn’t try to force the point.

“Actually, that’s what I wanted to thank you for.”

Thank me? Now I really didn’t understand.

“I’m glad you used that story, because now I think Suzanne is finally convinced that it was just a funny story in your speech and I didn’t really do that or any of the other stuff you mentioned at our wedding.”

I suddenly realised who it was I was talking to, but before I could get into a proper conversation, he had to go.

“I think I’m needed back at my table, but thank you again.”

“No problem Rob” I said shaking his hand, “Good to see you again,” and then he walked back to his table.

Rob had been the bloke who had been worried that his life seemed a little dull so he asked me to ‘spice things up a bit’ when it came to my speech. So that’s what I did. Mild mannered computer programmer Rob became an international spy with a taste for danger and fast cars, but who in his spare time liked to cross-dress as Sister Mary-Catherine. It was utterly preposterous stuff, but fortunately almost everybody in the room got the joke and the speech went down like a house-on-fire, it was probably one of the best reactions I’ve had.

There was one person though who didn’t get the joke and that was Suzanne, Rob’s new wife. For some bizarre and inexplicable reason she took every word of my speech as the Gospel truth. She convinced herself that the man she had married was not the man she thought he was, and proceeded to start an argument with him right in the middle of their first dance. Let’s just say that the rest of the evening was hardly the joyous occasion it should have been.

I’d inadvertently had almost caused a marriage to fail after just 4 hours and at the time it had really go to me. That was the first time I had considered giving the whole thing up. But now despite that issue having been resolved, I felt even more like I wanted to just pack-it-all-in and never have to go to another wedding ever again.

I watched Rob go back to his table, he kissed his wife, she told him something, he laughed, they both laughed, the whole table laughed. They were all having fun, enjoying the special day.

It was then it occurred to me that for me wedding’s had lost that special something that they were supposed to have. That excitement, that buzz, that sense of joy. They used to have it for me, the first few weddings especially that had it and I loved it. But it had turned into boredom and apathy and same-old same-old. I didn’t want that, I wanted the excitement and the spring in the step, I wanted it to be how it used to be, I wanted it to be how it was at the first wedding.

"The Best Man" is copyright Angus Burns 2007.

Part One - "The Best Man"

"Ladies and gentlemen, please be upstanding and raise your glasses. To the bride and groom"

"The bride and groom" chimed the thronged masses - just as all the previous thronged masses had done before - this was followed by the sound of clinking of glasses, then of glasses being put back on their tables and then finally, almost apologetically, of a belated round of applause as they realised I'd finished my bit. I nodded politely as some of the people raised their glasses to me and I grinned at the Groom as he slapped me on the back for not giving away too many of his deepest and darkest secrets.

As I sat down, a thought occurred to me, why had he been so worried? What possible dirt was I going to spread? I barely knew the bloke. No, correction, I didn't know the bloke, not at all. And certainly I didn't know anything about deep dark secrets hidden in his past (but to be honest, looking at him, I didn't think he had any).

How the fuck had it got to this? Some people spend their weekends playing football or going to the theatre or even fucking train spotting. But not me, I spend my weekends being Best Man at weddings for people I don't know, people I've never met before, sad people who have no friends.

OK, so there may be a nice slap-up meal, a free glass (or several) of champagne, but trust me it soon begins to get a bit dull, and then it gets tedious, and then it gets as if you never want to see another chicken chasseur again otherwise you're likely to shove it up the groom's arse.

The waiters were bringing over the plates to our table (the good thing about being best man is that you usually get served first) and as they put it down in front of me I realised what it was they were serving.

"Mmmmm, yummy, chicken chasseur" said the Bride with clear delight in her eyes.

I just smiled, nodded and started eating my food.

"The Best Man" is copyright Angus Burns 2006.

Introduction - "The Best Man"

Hi, I'm new to this blogging malarkey. To be honest I've never been one to write a diary or anything like that, so I won't be using this as forum to spill my thoughts to the world. That's just not me. What I do love doing though is writing. So I'm going to use this blog as a way of getting some of my work out into the public domain.

My story is called "The Best Man" and is the story of a man who spends pretty much every weekend of his life being the best-man at weddings. Hopefully you'll laugh because it is meant to be a comedy. If however you you don't find it funny, just pretend it's a dramatic character study instead.

By the way "The Best Man" is very vaguely semi-autobiographical, in that I have twice been a best man. But other than that it's almost entirely fiction and I certainly haven't done some of the things that Jack gets up to.

Now this won't be some old piece work cut and pasted into into the blog, but a new story which I will write as I go along. I'll be adding chapters, paragraphs and sentences to the blog as soon as I've written them. I've got a good idea of where I want the story and characters to head, but if you've any thoughts, ideas or plotlines then please let me know what you think and if they are any good I'll try to incorporate them (and of course, where possible, I'll credit who I got the idea from).

Anyway I hope you enjoy what I write, please let me know what you think, your thoughts will be most appreciated, I can be emailed at angbur@googlemail.com . If you happen to be a literary agent / publisher / or someone else who would like to pay me lots of money to write for a living, then please drop me a line at angbur@googlemail.com
Now enjoy "The Best Man"

"The Best Man" is copyright Angus Burns 2006.