What to do when you realise you're on the dregs table at a wedding

EXCITED to attend a good friend’s wedding only to realise you’re sat at the dregs table with the other people they don’t really like? Here’s how to cope:

Silently fume

You want to approach the happy couple at the head table and demand to know why the f**k you’ve been seated right at the back with all the misfits and weirdos. One time 12 years ago the bride called you her best friend, for Christ’s sake. But it’s their special day and you can’t do that, so you sit down and seethe instead.

Interrogate the rest of the table

You can’t believe you’re this unimportant, so you grill the other guests about who they know and how. They’re all second cousins, primary school pals or friends of the bride’s parents. Are you really this worthless to people you thought you were close to? Yes, it turns out you are.

Drink heavily

There’s nothing for it but to hog the single bottle of free wine on the table and drown your sorrows. Neck it quickly while everyone else is politely sipping their first glass. It’s fine. These losers are just glad to have been invited while you’re now nursing a broken heart.

Bond with the rest of the table

After the groom’s brother’s mate’s girlfriend buys a couple more bottles for the table, everyone loosens up and you find out they’re all pissed off about being on the shit table too. Test the waters with a slightly bitchy comment about the wedding dress before going in hard with a real slagging off when the bride’s old next-door neighbour agrees with you.

Heckle the speeches

You are now a band of brothers with an unbreakable bond forged by feeling unappreciated, and also by drinking a lot. Celebrate by shouting stuff out during the speeches, and miming being sick whenever there is a soppy bit. They ruined your day, so you’re going to ruin theirs too.

Rinse the buffet and go wild at the disco

Given that you put on a fancy outfit and spent £200 on a train ticket and a hotel room, you’re going to get your money’s worth out of this shitshow. Stuff your face with cocktail sausages and quiche, then throw yourself around the dance floor until you vomit. If you’re lucky, some will go on the groom’s shoes.

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This is nothing to do with me, God confirms

DESPITE repeated mentions of the Holy Spirit and higher powers, God has confirmed that today’s proceedings have bugger all to do with him.

Talk of the divine right of kings and the monarch being subject to no earthly authority has escalated to such a pitch that the deity has felt the need to step in and dismiss it as a load of cobblers.

God said: “I didn’t mind being associated with it in 1953, but that was seven decades ago. The world’s moved on and now all this nonsense just feels passé. Read the room, Charles.

“If he wants to put on his fancy gold hat and sit on the ancient chair or whatever then fine, but don’t attach my name to it is all I’m saying. I didn’t choose the bloke. He just happened to be born into the most entitled family in the world.

“I do kind of like the fact that he’s inviting all faiths into it though. All us deities are into that. Yeah, we chat, we’re friends. It’s you tedious little humans that fight over it.

“What’s that? You want my response on illness, famine and societal ills? Sorry, the line’s got really bad, I can’t hear you. Hello? Hello?”

God then made some unconvincing hissing and crackling noises and hung up.