Being the Best Man

(Singular Honour)



NEILL says:

Being the Best Man: is it really the great life-affirming experience that bridal magazine propaganda and american TV would have us believe? Or is it, in fact, just a thankless and exhausting collection of dogsbody running-around, foolish costumery and - worst of all - public speaking? The answer, as that opening should have made clear to anyone who has ever used this singularly cliched bit of rhetoric themselves, is of course that it's a bit of both. I had plenty of opportunity to discover the highs and lows during my stint as Best Man at the nuptials of my pie-faced younger brother and esteemed co-reviewer James. On the one hand, it is of course a singular honour, to stand at your compadre's side, shoulder-to-shoulder as he embarks upon this bold new leg of the great voyage of Life. On the other hand, it involves public speaking. The worst part is the reception; you'd think that once you'd managed not to lose the rings, got the groom to the church on time and stopped him running away / passing out / having panic attacks waiting for the bride to show up*, people would let you have a bit of peace. But no! Every man and his dog seems to see nothing wrong with snapping their fingers and shouting 'Best Man! Best Man!' and sending you on whatever trivial and half-baked errand enters their overheated free-booze-sozzled brains. And then there's the public speaking.

Ah, I'm just kidding. It was all quite a laugh really. Besides the whole 'singular honour’ thing and the 'lots of free booze' thing, I take from my Best Manly experience several gifts of memory and experience that I shall always treasure. These are:

1. I learned that public speaking is not, in fact, the worst thing that can possibly happen. Actually it was sort of fun.


2. As a thank-you for my half-assed efforts, James gave me a bona fide original Optimus Prime toy. For the first time in my adult life, I almost cried.


3. I got to go to Estonia and watch [CENSORED][CENSORED] rubbing their [CENSORED] all over [CENSORED][CENSORED][CENSORED][CENSORED]. Which was pleasant.


4. If I hadn't been a Best Man, I would never have had the occasion to read 'Stag and Groom' magazine, and the world-famous legendary Crime-Fighting Duo 'Stagg and Groome' would never have been born!

Ahem.

8/10

* I tried to keep him distracted with Fun Comics Trivia questions, but he was rubbish; unfocussed, distracted... almost as if his mind was on something else. The poor sap couldn't even remember the names of Supergirl's parents.**

**Zor-El and Alura. Obviously.

Walking from London to Brighton

(About 50 Miles)



JAMES says:

Not as quick as taking the train.

7.2/10

Having a Quite Common Name

(Whinge)

JAMES CAMERON says:

Do you know how much I'm going to have to do if I'm ever going to be the most famous James Cameron? Or even the 5th most famous James Cameron? A hell of a lot, let me tell you. Not for me the heady thrill of Google searching my own name, even though I have my own website. Not only do I have to put up with people informing me, when I tell them my name, that there is a film director who also has that name, but there's also a reporter, an artist, loads of people. And when I went to the doctor, upon finding out my name, he enquired if I was related to the famous James Cameron as usual, but then went on to reveal he was referring to a Dr James Cameron who pioneered autopsies in this country. And the other day I was looking in the TV listings and I saw there was a program on called 'James Cameron is a Jerk.' It's not pleasant, I tell you.

And even my first name is depressingly common. I am one of 3 James's in the office, which causes much confusion and hilarity on the phone (well, not much if I'm honest). At present it's not too bad as I'm known as 'Young James', but that position is always under threat. I had to turn down some guy who interviewed for the job as he was not only a James, but younger than me and even in the short time he came in to interview had begun to be known as 'Cute James.' It's only a matter of time before my identity becomes 'Middle-Aged James', which can't be good.

So you Quentins, Marmadukes and Neills, enjoy your individuality, and spare a thought for those poor souls destined to spend their lives mired in a sea of James Camerons.

3.8/10

NEILL says:

At least you haven’t had to spend the last twenty-seven years patiently explaining to people why you have an extra ‘L’. Which of course it would be quite hard to squeeze into ‘James’, but you take my point. Is it my fault I have willfully obscure middle-class parents? Of course, this cycle of abuse can only continue, and should I ever have a son I rather fancy I shall name the pitiable bastard Paull.

Having an extra ‘L’ – 4.3/10

Looking into other people's front rooms whilst walking home in the dark

(Prurient Nocturnal Activity)



Guest Reviewer of the Week DEBBIE says:


Well it's an open invitation, isn't it? If someone is happy to eschew net curtains and leave their heavy drapes open while the light is on at night, they can only WANT people to look in. Why then do they look so cross when I pause to contemplate their choice of wall hanging and why do they snap the curtains shut when I press my little face up against the window just to see whether that really is the same IKEA bookcase that everyone on the planet has?

This really is one of my favourite pastimes. You don't have to go out of your way to do it (just walk home from work), it doesn't cost anything (usually) and it doesn't take much time (unless you see something really interesting and invite yourself in to look at it). It is also terrifically exciting - once I thought I saw a fire but sadly it turned out to be someone sitting in a chair below the window smoking a cigarette. When you are outside in the dark, it is fascinating how cosy, welcoming and in every way more appealing other people's lives really look. I have a theory though, that every other room in the house has no furniture and plaster crumbling off the walls. This is the show room where are 5pm the show family gather onstage, waiting for an audience. They sit in their perfect clothes on their perfect sofa while their perfect cat sits prettily on the window sill, whereas mine just sits on the dining table and licks her arse. At the end of the day, however, when there is no longer the excuse of absent mindedness to
leave the curtains open, they close them and start scratching their private parts, arguing over the TV channels and then retire to bed in the coal shed like normal people.

One could argue that this is a somewhat perverse pastime, but to be honest, we all do it whether we mean to or not. It is almost comforting to see little snapshots of suburban life. Yet why is it, that our weirdest neighbour, (you know the one who sticks anti-war posters on his door and sits with his mad guard dog on the garden wall in a tin helmet and open toed sandals) NEVER leaves his curtains open. I dread to think what goes on in his front room....but all the same I'd love to know!

8/10

Spending Time in Houston

(Spending Time in Houston)



Guest Reviewer OUR SISTER HESTER says:

I should have know that selling my soul to an oil company a few years ago would have ugly consequences; embarrassment when meeting new people and trying to answer the "so what do you do?" question, constantly trying to justify the company's latest decision to drill in a site of outstanding natural beauty to myself in order to sleep at night and so on.

One of the things I stupidly had not foreseen was the ridiculous amount of time I would have to spend in Houston, Texas. "The Lone Star State".

Now, to some people this may not sound so bad; steaks the size of a newborn baby, sunshine, living in a hotel with swimming pool where someone else washes your pants. However, when you get your 2nd confirmation in one month for 12 nights at the Holiday Inn, dreadful images of Alan Partridge float in front of your eyes. Well a very fat and pasty Alan Partridge; the diet of steak, bbq ribs and burritos coupled with a complete lack of sunlight (air conditioned hotel to car to air conditioned office to car...day in day out) is not great for the complexion and figure. For me, personally, it is the TV ads every other minute, complete lack of marmite and tea made with "creamer" that get to me the most.

Also Houston itself is pretty crumby, spread out over an area bigger than London with about 100th of the population. Space is not wasted though: every man, woman and child does own at least one filthy great SUV - vehicles that are bigger than a bungalow and use about as much petrol as concord mile-for-mile.

Still, the people are great and they honestly do wear cowboy boots.

4/10

Combining music collections when you move in with someone

(Thing that happens when you move in with someone)



Keep reading for your chance to WIN STUFF!

JAMES says:

In theory this should be brilliant, as you automatically double the range and quantity of your available music listening to reserve. However, in my extensive research for this review which is not just entirely based on my own experience but stands as a universal truth for all cultures and societies, one side usually brings a lot less to the table. And, without meaning to be sexist, that side is usually the ladies (or the ‘bitch’ in single sex relationships). The man brings his boxes of eclectic but always interesting CDs, a whole wealth of joy and excitement which if the woman had any sense she would take a week off work and listen through in alphabetical order twice, and in return gets a couple of albums that the girl bought when she was 14 because she fancied the lead singer.

Then you come to the integration dilemma. It’s easy to just have your music separately, thus avoiding the nightmare scenario where someone is looking approvingly through your collection at a party only to come across ‘Abba Gold’ or somesuch. You tell them it’s your girlfriend’s, but you can see in their eyes a doubting glimmer. It also means that your partner can find her CDs when she wants them, which I suppose is a good thing. However, these are far outweighed by the negative, that the CD collection in your house will not be in order. Not alphabetically, not by genre, not even by colour, and I know I certainly couldn’t sleep if that state of affairs prevailed in my house. Anarchy.

There are benefits of course. When your little lady starts listening to your favourite bands of her own volition, it fills you with a pride almost as great as if you’d made it yourself. On the flip side, though, you might find yourself in the position of being in the mood to listen to a Divine Comedy CD, which can shake your self esteem to the core. You can also buy your loved one an album that you actually wanted yourself as a present, and then get unlimited access to it. Finally, you get duplicates of albums which you can give away in a competition to boost interest in your hilarious yet insightful website. Like I said, universal truths, no personal experience in here at all.

4.5/10

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COMPETITION: Yes, dear readers, in the spirit of the above review we are giving one lucky reader the chance to win James' superfluous post-merging extra copy of the superb album '13' by Blur. To win this rare, exclusive and cutting-edge prize, and possibly a tube of Rolos thrown in too, simply tell us the WORST record you have ever found in the CD collection of a girlfriend / husband / PVC sex dwarf / whatever. Anyone and everyone is allowed to enter this fun contest, except for Neill; partly because it's his website, and partly because he once went out (briefly) with a girl whose entire music collection consisted of military band music and Telstar TV-advertised 'Best of Soft Metal' compilations, so he would win too easily.

Just e-mail your entry to competition@urtheory.co.uk - closing date… oh, not for ages.