Читать книгу The Moaning of Life - Karl Pilkington - Страница 9

IT DOESN’T BOTHER me when there are postal strikes, as most of what comes through our front door I’m not in a rush to receive. Gas bills, phone bills, council tax bills, and the thing that fills me with the most dread – wedding invitations. It’s like getting summoned for jury service.

You don’t want to go, but it’s very difficult to get out of, and then it’s a long, drawn-out affair that you have to sit through with strangers. You can normally tell it’s a wedding invite because the font on the envelope has so many swirls and curls it looks like your address was written out during an earthquake.

I’ll check who the invitation is from, and if it’s not a relation, I’ll try to get it to the shredder before Suzanne gets wind of it. Getting rid of the evidence isn’t so easy when the envelope is packed full of bits of glitter and gold hearts that go all over the bloody place when you open it, like a money bag from the bank that’s been fitted with an ink bomb.

Then I have to hoover up the evidence. I did this recently, but Suzanne knew what I’d done when she went to vacuum the stairs and saw the glitter whizzing round inside the Dyson like some kind of Brian Cox CGI universe.

I’m not totally against marriage. If two people want to get married, they should just get on with it. Why all the palaver? I think getting a joint mortgage is a bigger deal, yet you don’t have to invite everyone-you-know-plus-one to witness you signing the contract. I might have married Suzanne years ago if we could have done it online.

Just tick a few boxes, agree to the terms and conditions and wait for the automated reply that says it’s all gone through and we’re now husband and wife. Why has that not been set up? I don’t think having a big fancy wedding means you love someone more, it just means you want to show your friends and family how much you love someone.

But I’ve never been too bothered about what other people think. And there isn’t one bit of the traditional wedding that attracts me. I’m a big fan of cake, and yet even wedding cake doesn’t tempt me. I don’t know anyone who likes it and I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone eating it either.

I’ve watched people scoffing down kangaroo arse and bulls’ bollocks on I’m a Celebrity, yet I’ve never witnessed wedding cake being eaten. In fact, wedding cakes sum up the whole thing for me – over the top, unnecessarily complicated, no one really enjoys it, and it’s sickly sweet.