Don’t work, just blog February 9, 2006Posted by BiB in Uncategorized.
Tags: post-speech, speech
Actually, I have to thank a bit of comment spam for prompting me herewards as it was sent to the best man’s speech post from a while back and I need to say a few post-speech thank-yous.
Well, first of all, I want to thank my mom and my dad… No, I don’t. What bollocks am I talking? I’ll leave that sort of thanking to Gwyneth, blubbing and all. No, I want to thank my intuition for dashing to the internet in times of crisis and putting out a bloggerly SOS for a bit of speechy advice. Pavvers, you really did save my bacon with this post. Not only was it printed out and taken to the other end of the world, it rocked me to sleep in the panic-stricken nights as the duty drew near. As I thought to myself, “I dunno what to do, I dunno what to do,” your words calmed me down and lulled me into an utterly false but necessary sense of security. By the time the big day drew near, I had your 11-step guide down to a t (and my speech off by heart, as you recommended. I had a cheat-sheet just in case but it got barely a glance). And I also want to thank all the people who commented on this post, especially anonymous Jon, who, I think, is a Kiwi in Australia. I followed your advice more closely than you might care to believe a blogger should, and it worked a treat. I went for a pretty unsalacious brand of speech in the end. Genitalia didn’t even get a look-in. And it was all received okayly enough. (But I won’t give up the day-job.) (Once I find a day-job.) (Plus I should thank all children present in the audience who laughed throughout anyway.)
But being best man, eh? Who’d bloody warrant it? And in NZ, you’re actually not best man, but MC, which means not just a speech but all sorts of responsibilities. Announcements, ushering folk in and out, being bossed around by the venue’s bitchy queen maître d’ (and, almost amusingly, having orange juice spilt onto your crisp white shirt within one second of arrival by him so being stained throughout. That calmed my nerves, obv). Quite a fuss. Meaning I was stone cold sober until well into the festivations. You see. No respect for tradition.
Anyway, I think that is NZ well and truly done now, blog-wise. You can expect me to get back to my deeply intellectual and philosophical entries any minute now…