We had our wedding feast, ha, at the Killarney Heights Reception Centre. The food was the dead spit for something you got on a crook airline down the back of the plane. "Chicken or meat? Chicken please. Oh, we've only got meat". (I thought chicken was meat, apparently not).
Mark's fly broke and he stuck the floral centrepiece in the gap. My father abused all the guests. Our wedding song was meant to be "Who knows how much I love you" by the Beatles but the DJ put on the next track instead "Why don't you do it in the road?"
We all went back to mum and dad's. Mum showed all the guests her brand new freezer in the garage and hundreds of parcels of frozen meat. Gee they were very impressed.
Mum and dad had tarted up the house by planting 20 or 30 poplars down the drive. Unfortunately Norman, our best man got pissed and reversed up the drive in his brand new Cadillac with really wide bumpers. He accelerated and every few seconds you could hear this bizarre noise like, phitt-umph, phitt-umph, phitt-umph. He drove home to Castle Hill from French's Forest with 20 poplar saplings, ten each side of his bumper bar.
We took off the next morning on our honeymoon, Mark was so ill his parents had to come from Bayview to the airport with anti vomit stuff. What a wuz. I was fine and had a fabulous brekky from the baine marie.
Just remembered Mark had his hair permed for the wedding. HYSTERICAL.
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