This is entirely fiction. Completely. Utterly. Except for any true bits
June 30th: Fitting day. The Fiancé, The Best Man, The Male Heir and me are to have our suits fitted. There is a light-hearted feeling as we arrive at the tailors. It is an invitation only business. We ring the bell, exchanging banter when the blind on the door goes up and, horror The First Of Her Name is framed in the glass.
‘This is fun,’ she intones. The Male Heir kisses the proffered cheek, the Fiancé instinctively ducks and the Best Man shakes her hand. I’m left to lock the door.
Male Heir asks if she should be there, voicing a question both I and I’m sure the Fiancé would like to ask but neither of us need any further punishment after the shock of seeing her there.
‘But darling, imagine the mistakes your father or that one might make without me!’
The tailor, a gratuitously tactile gentleman with over long fingers takes our measurements. Long discussion with First Of Her Name over apparently oversized testes on the Fiance which are to be remedied by the application of spanx.
Momentary kerfuffle as Fiancé tries to escape, thinking his dingleberries are to be panel-beaten by the MOB to fit the suit. The First Of Her Name produces an example of said spanx and explains how these instruments of torture will eradicate the problem of the side on which the Fiancé dresses and ensure the ‘line of the suit’ is not compromised. Unlike said testes. Fiancé remains unconvinced of the efficacy of the plan.
‘You show him.’
It takes me a moment to realise it is I to whom she is addressing this direction. Much hilarity from the Male Heir and Best Man at prospect of me and Fiancé having to try on spanx. Comeuppance ensues when First Of Her Name tells them they will be required to wear their own set if we are all to avoid any VPLs on the day. From the glances exchanged it seems fair to assume none of us know what it is we will be avoiding.
Later, in the Pub Best Man suggests this must be something like a VPN and is to avoid Hello! stealing the images. Hopes briefly raised that the cost might be about to be offset by selling the rights though why anyone would buy them is a mystery. Hopes dashed when it is revealed this is a joke. Agree with Fiancé that we may as well have third pint as it is unlikely we will be able to pee standing up for much longer. On the plus side, my hernia seems sorted.