![]() He might have an eyebrow ring, and smokes Benson. He's holding a pint of Heineken, half of it already slobbered down his waistcoat – the suit jacket is well lost at this point. You know him to see, too, a man about to deliver a bad best man's speech. Either way, it doesn’t leave my mind for weeks. It is usually either my favourite part or worst memory from a wedding. I am always on edge, anticipating the worst and hoping for the best. My palms get sweaty, my goes mouth dry my mind screams no-no-no. But a bad speech? It doesn’t get worse than that. I’d rather see soup spilled on the bride’s gown, or fish handed to a vegan guest. He does doughnuts in it outside Knock airport on Friday nights and knows all the words to Marty Mone'sĪ bad, cringeworthy or embarrassing best man’s speech is possibly the most uncomfortable thing to witness as a guest. Or, rather, a horrifically bad one – and I’ve seen a few dodgy ones in my time. It is a rocky road of potential disasters, but one thing I think I’m pretty good at is recognising a good speech. I couldn’t look them in the eye if you didn’t ask them.” ![]() “And don’t tell me you haven’t put down the Mitchells? They were very good to your father when he lost those cattle in 2012. And if you’re that far down the road aren’t you as well go up as far as O’Hara’s turn? “Well ya can’t go down Boherbreen and not include the Tanseys too.
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