It's my wedding today too, and I'll spend the entire day pretending I'm not f**ked off

By Carolyn Ryan

THREE years ago, I decided on my wedding date and booked the venue. Two-and-a-half years ago, I paid a deposit to a photographer. It’s a full year since I bought my dress. 

But thanks to the spontaneous decision of some tuppenny ha’penny TV actress and a wastrel who happens to be sixth in line to the throne, I will spend the best day of my life hiding the fact that I’m incredibly pissed off. 

When they announced it at the end of November, I comforted myself by telling everyone she must be pregnant. “Six months between engagement and ceremony? That tart’s up the duff for sure,” I confidently claimed. But sadly no. 

It’s the lack of consideration. They could have got married on a Friday, like most couple who can’t organise properly do. Given everyone a day off. But they had to be selfish. 

Even my family drama’s been overshadowed. Who cares that my mum’s regular hairdresser’s off with hives when Meghan’s dad’s a no-show? Drama queen. 

I arranged my wedding nice and early so I haven’t got uncles listening to the FA Cup final, and instead I’ve got their wives asking if there can be a telly at the reception so they can watch ‘the big day’. Bitches, you’re at the big day. That’s just a sideshow. 

But I know it’ll be obvious. I’ll walk down the aisle comparing her dress to mine. I’ll snap out ‘I do’ while wondering if they’ve written their own stupid Hollywood vows. On every photograph I’ll be glowering. 

She did this deliberately, the Yank tart. Well, I’m going to make my marriage last longer than hers out of spite. That’ll show her. 

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Saturday, May 6th 2023: A day to clean the fridge

ACROSS the country, British people are readying themselves for a once-in-a-lifetime fridge-cleaning moment.

There are few occasions in an everyday working person’s existence when they seriously consider getting all the shit out of the fridge, putting the really rank stuff into a plastic bag, and then giving it a really thorough wipe down with a bottle of squirty cleaner.

Perhaps even removing the particularly scuzzy see-through drawers, and leaving them to soak in the sink.

For most of us, simply ordinary folk whose lives are seldom touched by mouldy onions and multiple jars of out-of-date curry paste, the days when doing all this seems appealing are very few, and so very far between.

But Saturday is one of those days.

It is a moment in history when a nation united by a lack of normal television will stand up, chests inflated with pride, and say ‘I might as well have a go at the fridge’.

Stephen Malley, just an ordinary honest, working family man from Peterborough, said: “I never thought of fridge cleaning as something that was relevant to my life but there’s something unique and very special about this Saturday that has spoken to me on a very human level and made me go and buy some scourers.”

He added: “I will remove items including the mozzarella ball I bought nine months ago with the vague aspiration of making a nice salad, the old leeks that are starting to decompose, and the tub of Utterly Butterly that for some reason no one has ever thrown away despite it very evidently being empty.

“I will do this, and then I will use hot water and chemicals to make the inside of the fridge good again.

“And I will feel proud.”