Wedding band decides time is right for one of their own songs

A WEDDING band is under the wild delusion that the drunken crowd they are performing for wants to hear one of their original compositions.

The Matrimonators, a band specialising in swing versions of popular classics, have been going down so well that they have decided to wow everyone with a song they play in their other incarnation as A Thousand Times Yes.

Lead singer Joe Turner said: “I’m A Believer’s warmed them up. Now it’s time to set the place on fire with Love Attack Squadron, the lead track from our upcoming digital EP.

“You might assume that a wedding crowd just wants to hear Elvis songs and Young Hearts Run Free, and you’d be right to a pretty large degree.”

“But I’m a pretty good judge of a crowd’s mood and these guys seem to me like they’re open to something a little bit different, something they don’t know all the words to.

“The drummer gets a break because it’s a percussionless tone poem, and while a lot of the guests did sit down or start heckling at least they were listening. And in the end, isn’t that all that matters?”

Drummer Martin Bishop said: “I agree with the crowd and not just because I’m now part of them.”

Consider subscribing - so we can write more funny content. .js-article{ display:none;}

The ars*hole neighbour's guide to holding a garden party

HAVING a garden party? Keen on maximising aggravation to your neighbours? Here’s how:

Make the barbecue good and smoky

Your neighbour’s garden should be unusable due to suffocating smoke. If supermarket charcoal isn’t doing it, add some cardboard or damp twigs. If they’re choking and weeping like gilets jaunes in a cloud of CS gas, you’ve got it just right.

Hire a hugely overpowered sound system

Borrow or hire some speakers more suitable for a Metallica gig than a suburban garden. This is especially irritating if nobody is dancing and a crappy little CD player would clearly do.

Ensure your guests are ars*holes too

Try to include vile kids with a supernatural ability to scream solidly for six hours, golf-obsessed business types talking as if their six-employee glazing firm makes them Alan Sugar, and several sh*tfaced middle aged women who shriek like banshees if anyone mentions sex or sausages.

Do some intrusive activity

Maybe a drunken game of rounders, or hire a bouncy castle. The constant excited shouts of kids and guests will be drowned out by the diesel generator anyway.

Lie about how long it will go on

Tell neighbours ‘it’ll all be over by about half-ten’. Neglect to mention the guests turning up when the pubs shut and the small hardcore of boozers loudly talking b*llocks until 4am.

Next story ›