Rob Gilroy: Making A Stand #21

Is it just me, or is everyone getting married?

To be fair, it might just be me and my Facebook timeline.

Every other day there’s a new announcement about an engagement, an instamgrammed shot of a bit of a chubby fingered ring wearer (apologies to anyone with chunky digits) and a message of elation.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ll ‘like’ them and retweet them till I’m blue in the face, I love a good romance.

And I’ve been attending a lot of weddings recently, I feel like Hugh Grant or at the very least one of those older people that turn up to local weddings just for the hell of it.

Every time I read an engagement announcement or attend a wedding I’m filled with dread.

Not because I’m scared of commitment; I’ve just subscribed to 12 monthly issues of People’s Friend and myself and Lucy once bought a hoover, so it’s definitely serious.

It’s just that it reminds me of the time I was best man.

That’s not some sort of boast. I actually was a best man, at a wedding and everything, I wasn’t just casually telling you I used to be brilliant. I never was.

I’m actually a little bit rubbish. That’s why I’m surprised I was asked to be a best man.

Presumably the title of ‘best man’ comes from the ‘…for the job’ phrase. If that is the case, then I certainly have no idea why I was picked.

The job I would be ‘best man’ for is one that requires little human interaction yet a calculated approach to eating chocolate-coated pretzels.

Let me tell you for a start; there were no pretzels at this wedding – despite my complaints – there were, however, lots of people. All waiting for me to make a speech. I’m getting palpitations just writing this.

You may imagine that making a speech would be easy for me; what with doing stand up comedy an’ all. In fact that’s what most people thought.

If you’re terrified of having to make a speech in public: I doubt Martin Luther King Jr would have had as powerful a message if he’d only recited it to his collection of stuffed toys.

Nothing is more terrifying than having someone come up to you and say: “So, you’re a comedian; we’re expecting great things from the speech.” Wonderful.

That should calm me down. I doubt anyone went up to Hitler before Nuremburg and said; “So, you’re a big racist…this better be good.”

I spent a whole day with this reminder hanging over my head; “I bet your speech is funny, no pressure”, “Can’t wait to hear your speech”, “Don’t mess it up”.

However worried I was when I was writing the thing, I was now terrified, especially as I was constantly inundated with a friend’s distant relatives, all reminding me, that I, by my very nature, am supposed to be funny.

At one point the husband of the photographer stopped me in the toilet to say; “I’ve heard you’re a comedian; looking forward to the speech!” The husband of the photographer! I’m sure he was just supposed to wait in the car with the extra rolls of film.

I’ll admit now that the speech was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to write. Harder than this.

I’ll be honest; this is a doddle – I usually just copy and paste bits I’ve read in the Guardian – but the speech was something else.

Anytime I asked someone about best man speeches all I got back was; “The funniest thing I’ve ever heard. Ever!” So I spent ages trying to write ‘the funniest thing anyone’s ever heard, ever’.

I don’t know if you’ve ever set out to be the best at anything ever in the world, ever. It’s bloody hard. There’s nothing more disruptive to your creative flow than knowing people are expecting a lot from you.

Well, maybe a faulty Wi-Fi signal.

The day got off without a hitch, except one – the people getting hitched. (Do you get it? THAT’S why I was worried about writing something funny!)

It came to the speeches and the bride’s father stood up.

His first words were; “I wasn’t feeling the pressure until I knew I was being followed by a professional comedian.” Brilliant.

First off; he’s being a bit fast and loose with the term ‘professional’ and secondly; anyone who didn’t know I was a comedian, now does, so they’ll all be expecting funny things.

I turned to the groom, he looked at me and smiled; “Don’t worry about it; it doesn’t have to be funny, as long as it’s from the heart.”

From the heart? Nobody told me it had to be personal.

I wasn’t fazed, I calmly put my comment cards in my jacket pocket, took a bow and shouted; “Look, there’s a woman jumping out of the cake!”

And with that I was gone. In to the gents quicker than Stirling Moss with diarrhoea and out of that window like a confused burglar.

So the next time you think of getting engaged or plastering it all over social media, spare a thought for me; the man who buckled under the pressure.

• Rob Gilroy is with Jolly Mixtures at the Caroline Street Club, Saltaire on Thursday 12 September, 8:30pm, £3 in.
• He is also with the Jolly Mixture team at Festival Feast and Frolics at the Half Moon Café, Saltaire, as part of the Saltaire Festival. Tickets are £15 – which includes admission, entertainment, a BBQ and a free drink – from the Saltaire Festival website.