Over the course of five social occasions, a committed bachelor must consider the notion that he may have discovered love.

[at Gareth's funeral]
Matthew: Gareth used to prefer funerals to weddings. He said it was easier to get enthusiastic about a ceremony one had an outside chance of eventually being involved in. In order to prepare this speech, I rang a few people, to get a general picture of how Gareth was regarded by those who met him. Fat seems to have been a word people most connected with him. Terribly rude also rang a lot of bells. So very fat and very rude seems to have been a stranger's viewpoint. On the other hand, some of you have been kind enough to ring me and let me know that you loved him, which I know he would have been thrilled to hear. You remember his fabulous hospitality, his strange experimental cooking. The recipe for "Duck à la Banana" fortunately goes with him to his grave. Most of all, you tell me of his enormous capacity for joy. When joyful, when joyful for highly vocal drunkenness. But I hope joyful is how you will remember him. Not stuck in a box in a church. Pick your favourite of his waistcoats and remember him that way. The most splendid, replete, big-hearted, weak-hearted as it turned out, and jolly bugger most of us ever met. As for me, you may ask how I will remember him, what I thought of him. Unfortunately there I run out of words. Perhaps you will forgive me if I turn from my own feelings to the words of another splendid bugger: W.H. Auden. This is actually what I want to say: "Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone, Silence the pianos and with muffled drum Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come. Let the aeroplanes circle, moaning overhead Scribbling on the sky the message 'He is Dead'. Put crepe bows 'round the white necks of the public doves, Let traffic policemen wear black, cotton gloves. He was my North, my South, my East, and West. My working week and my Sunday rest, My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song; I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong. The stars are not wanted now; put out every one, Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun, Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood; For nothing now can ever come to any good."
[at second wedding]
Mrs. Beaumont: Are you married?
Fiona: No.
Mrs. Beaumont: Are you a lesbian?
Fiona: Good lord! What makes you ask that?
Mrs. Beaumont: Well, it is one of the possibilites for unmarried girls nowadays, and it's rather more interesting than saying, "Oh dear, never met the right chap," eh?
Fiona: Quite right. Why be dull?
Mrs. Beaumont: Thank you.
Fiona: The truth is... well, the truth is, I have met the right person, and he's not in love with me, and until I stop loving him, no one else really has a chance.
Mrs. Beaumont: Oh, what a shame.
Fiona: Yes, isn't it?
[another pause]
Fiona: I was a lesbian once at school, but only for about fifteen minutes.
Tom: Oh, I don't know, Charlie. Unlike you, I never expected "the thunderbolt." I always just hoped that, that I'd meet some nice friendly girl, like the look of her, hope the look of me didn't make her physically sick, then pop the question and, um, settle down and be happy. It worked for my parents. Well, apart from the divorce and all that.
Charles: Do you think there really are people who can just go up and say, "Hi, babe. Name's Charles. This is your lucky night?"
Matthew: Well, if there are, they're not English.
[Charles comes running after Carrie]
Charles: Ehm, look. Sorry, sorry. I just, ehm, well, this is a very stupid question and... , particularly in view of our recent shopping excursion, but I just wondered, by any chance, ehm, eh, I mean obviously not because I guess I've only slept with 9 people, but-but I-I just wondered... ehh. I really feel, ehh, in short, to recap it slightly in a clearer version, eh, the words of David Cassidy in fact, eh, while he was still with the Partridge family, eh, "I think I love you," and eh, I-I just wondered by any chance you wouldn't like to... Eh... Eh... No, no, no of course not... I'm an idiot, he's not... Excellent, excellent, fantastic, eh, I was gonna say lovely to see you, sorry to disturb... Better get on...
Carrie: That was very romantic.
Charles: Well, I thought it over a lot, you know, I wanted to get it just right.
Charles: Ladies and gentlemen, l'm sorry to drag you from your desserts. There are just one or two little things I feel I should say, as best man. This is only the second time l've been a best man. I hope I did OK that time. The couple in question are at least still talking to me. Unfortunately, they're not actually talking to each other. The divorce came through a couple of months ago. But l'm assured it had absolutely nothing to do with me. Paula knew Piers had slept with her sister before I mentioned it in the speech. The fact that he'd slept with her mother came as a surprise, but I think was incidental to the nightmare of recrimination and violence that became their two-day marriage. Anyway, enough of that. My job today is to talk about Angus. There are no skeletons in his cupboard. Or so I thought. I'll come on to that in a minute. I would just like to say this. I am, as ever, in bewildered awe of anyone who makes this kind of commitment that Angus and Laura have made today. I know I couldn't do it and I think it's wonderful they can. So, back to Angus and those sheep.
Tom: Splendid, I thought. What did you think?
Bernard: I, thought, splendid! What did you think?
Tom: Splendid, I thought.
Bernard: How's it going, Lyds?
Lydia: Bloody awful.
Bernard: Oh dear, what's the problem?
Lydia: I was promised sex. Everybody said it. You'll be a bridesmaid, you'll get sex, you'll be fighting 'em off. But not so much as a tongue in sight.
Bernard: Well, I mean, if you fancy anything, I could always...
Lydia: Oh, don't be ridiculous, Bernard. I'm not that desperate.
Charles: How do you do, my name is Charles.
Old man: Don't be ridiculous, Charles died 20 years ago!
Charles: Must be a different Charles, I think.
Old man: Are you telling me I don't know my own brother!
Charles: No, no.
Carrie: Just before I go, when were you thinking of announcing the engagement?
Charles: Uhh... I'm sorry, whose engagement?
Carrie: Ours. I assumed, since we slept together, that we would be getting married. What did you think?
Charles: [looks surprised] What? I'm... gosh, you know, that's, umm... It takes a lot of thinking, that kind of thing, I mean, uhh... Obviously, I'm...
[chuckles and relaxes]
Charles: You're joking.
[Carrie chuckles as well]
Charles: God... For a moment there, I thought I was in "Fatal Attraction". I though you were... Glenn Close, and I was gonna get home and find my pet rabbit in the stove.
Carrie: No... But I think we both missed a great opportunity here.
Carrie: I think we both missed a great opportunity here.
Gareth: A toast before we go into battle. True love. In whatever shape or form it may come. May we all in our dotage be proud to say, "I was adored once too."
Charles: Perhaps we should've got married.
Henrietta: No! I'd have had to marry your friends, and I'm not sure I could take Fiona.
Charles: Fiona loves you.
Henrietta: Fiona calls me Duckface.
Charles: Well, I never heard that.
[Henrieta leavs and Fiona aproaches]
Fiona: How's Duckface?
Charles: Good form actually, not too mad.
Gareth: I've got a new theory about marriage. Two people are in love, they live together, and then suddenly one day, they run out of conversation.
Charles: Uh-huh.
Gareth: Totally. I mean they can't think of a single thing to say to each other. That's it: panic! Then suddenly it-it occurs to the chap that there is a way out of the deadlock.
Charles: Which is?
Gareth: He'll ask her to marry him.
Charles: Brilliant! Brilliant!
Gareth: Suddenly they've got something to talk about for the rest of their lives.
Charles: Basically you're saying marriage is just a way of getting out of an embarrassing pause in conversation.
Gareth: The definitive icebreaker.
Charles: Any idea who the girl in the black hat is?
Fiona: The name's Carrie.
Charles: Pretty.
Fiona: American.
Charles: Interesting.
Fiona: Slut.
Charles: Really?
Fiona: Used to work at Vogue. Lives in America now. Only gets out with very glamorous people. Quite out of your league.
Charles: Well, that's a relief. Thanks.
Charles: [thinking they're running really late] Time.
Matthew: Honestly?
Charles: Yes! Time!
Matthew: It's about ten to nine.
[Charles runs off, realises what Matthew said and returns to the car]
Charles: Bastards.
Charles: Yes, it's odd, isn't it? All these years we've been single and proud of it and never noticed that two of us were, in effect, married all this time.
Tom: Traitors in our midst.
Charles: Why am I always at, uh, weddings, and never actually getting married, Matt?
Matthew: It's probably 'cause you're a bit scruffy. Or it could also be 'cause you haven't met the right girl.
Charles: Ah, but you see, is that it? Maybe I have met the right girls. Maybe I meet the right girls all the time. Maybe it's me.
Charles: Tom, are you the richest man in England?
Tom: Oh, no. We're... like, seventh.
Gareth: It's hell out there. Matthew's trapped with an evangelist from Minnesota.
Tom: The great advantage of having a reputation for being stupid: People are less suspicious of you.
Fiona: Where's Gareth?
Matthew: Torturing Americans.
Fiona: How thoughtful of him.
Young Bridesmaid: What's bonking?
Scarlett: Well, it's kinda like table tennis, only with slightly smaller balls.
George the boor at The Boatman: I was at school with his brother Bufty. Tremendous bloke. He was head of my house. Buggered me senseless. Still, it taught me about life.
Fiona: [about congratulating parents of bride and groom] God, I never know what to say in these ghastly line-ups.
Gareth: It's a cinch! Just give a big warm hug and say the bride looks... pregnant.
Matthew: Or you can stick with convention and say "You must be very proud."
Fiona: Heaven preserve us...
[in the line]
Fiona: You must be very proud!
Charles: What turn off? Better not be the B359.
Scarlett: It's the B359.
Charles: Fuck it!
Carrie: First of all, l'd like to thank all of you who've flown in from the States. I'm really touched. As for the rest of you, l'd have thought that lots of frightful Americans flying in was an excuse for staying away, so I thank you, too.
[talking about his new wife, Laura]
Angus the Groom: Ignore her. She's drunk. At least I hope she is. Otherwise I'm in real trouble.
Henrietta: Charles! Charles, we must talk.
Charles: Right.
Henrietta: The thing is, Charlie, l've spoken to lots of people about you. Everybody agrees you're in real trouble, Charles.
Charles: Am l?
Henrietta: You see, you're turning into a kind of serial monogamist. One girlfriend after another, yet you never really let anyone near you. On the contrary... You're affectionate to them and sweet to them. Even to me, although you thought I was an idiot.
Charles: I did not.
Henrietta: You did. I thought U2 was a type of submarine.
Charles: In a way, you were right. Their music has a naval quality.
Henrietta: Be serious, Charles. Give people a chance. You don't have to think 'I must get married', but you mustn't start relationships thinking 'I mustn't get married'.
Charles: Most of the time I don't think at all. I just potter along.
Henrietta: Charlie! Oh, God! The way you used to look at me! I just misread it, that's all. I thought you were going to propose and you were just working out how to leave.
Charles: Excuse me. I think I had better be where other people are not.
[having just seen Carrie at his own wedding]
Charles: Dear Lord, forgive me for what I am about to, ah, say in this magnificent place of worship... Bugger! Bugger! Bugger, bugger, bugger, bugger!
Charles: Let me ask you one thing. Do you think - after we've dried off, after we've spent lots more time together - you might agree *not* to marry me? And do you think not being married to me might maybe be something you could consider doing for the rest of your life?
Carrie: I do.
[Carrie asks Charles's opinion on her wedding dress]
Charles: It is dangerous! You know, there's nothing more off-putting in a wedding than a priest with an enormous erection, yecch!
Carrie: Having a good night?
Charles: Yes. It's right up there with my father's funeral for sheer entertainment value.
Father Gerald: In the name of the Father, and of the Son, & the Holy Spirit, Amen. Let us pray. Father, you have made the bond of marriage a mystery. A symbol of Christ's love for his children. Hear our prayers for Bernard and Lydia through your son Jesus Christ our Lord who lives and wraiths with you and the Holy Ghoat. Eh *Ghost.* One God, forever and ever, Amen.
Matthew: This is his first time. He's a friend of the family.
Charles: Ahhh, Excellent!
Father Gerald: Bernard and Lydia, I shall now ask if you freely undertake the obligations of marriage. Bernard, repeat after me. I do solemnly declare that I do solemnly declare that I know not of any lawfully impediment...
Bernard: I do solemnly declare that I do solemnly declare that I know not of any lawfully impediment...
Father Gerald: ...why I, Lydia...
Bernard: ...why I, Bernard...
Father Gerald: Whoop, sorry! Why I, Bernard Godfrey St. John Delainey...
Bernard: Why I, Bernard Geoffrey Sinjin Delainey...
Father Gerald: May not be joined in matrimony to Lydia John Herbert.
Bernard: May not be joined in matrimony to Lydia Jane Herbert.
Father Gerald: Lydia, repeat after me. I do solemnly declare that I know not of any lawfully impediment why I, Lydia Jane Herbert...
Lydia: I do solemnly declare that I know not of any lawfully impediment why I, Lydia Jane Herbert...
Father Gerald: May not be Johned in matrimony...
Lydia: May not be *joined* in matrimony...
Father Gerald: to Bernard Geoffrey Siddle... Siddle Delainey.
Lydia: to Bernard Geoffrey *Sinjin* Delainey.
Father Gerald: I call upon those persons here present to witness... that I, Bernard... Delainey...
Bernard: I call upon those persons here present to witness... that I, Bernard Delainey...
Father Gerald: take thee Lydia Jane Herbert... to be my awful wedded wife.
Bernard: take thee Lydia Jane Herbert... to be my *lawful* wedded wife.
Father Gerald: *That's right*... *That's right*. May Almighty God bless you all in the name of the Father, the Son, & the Holy Spigot... *Spirit*.
Congregation: Amen!
Gareth: Bravo! Bravo!
[Everyone cheers]
Charles: Disastrous haircut.
American wedding guest: Do you actually know Oscar Wilde?
Gareth: Not personally no. But I do know someone who could get you his fax number. Shall we dance?
Vomiting Veronica: [to her husband about going to India with Charles] Charles was vile. He insisted on cracking jokes all the time I was ill.
Charles: I was only trying to cheer you up, V.
Naughty Nicki: Oh, you're that Veronica!
Vomiting Veronica: Which Veronica? Charlie?
Charles: [trying to change the subject] Remember Bombay?
Naughty Nicki: When Charles and I were going out, he told me he had this interesting journey around India with Vomiting Veronica
Naughty Nicki: I think that was it.
Charles: [Embarrassed] I don't remember - maybe I did.
Mocking Martha: Oh, come on Charles! I don't think I've ever been out with anyone less discreet. I remember you going on about this one girl - Helena wasn't it... whose mother made a pass at you...
Vomiting Veronica: I remember this! You couldn't work it out whether or not it'd be impolite not to accept her advances!
Naughty Nicki: Helena was Ms. Piggy! So her mother was Mrs. Piggy!
[all laugh]
Miss Piggy: [who's been with them the whole time] We've both lost a lot of weight since then!
Fiona: [discussing the first time one performs a wedding] It's rather like the first time one has sex, I suppose.
Father Gerald: I suppose so.
Fiona: Only not as messy, and far less cause for condoms.
Charles: All these weddings, all these years, all that blasted salmon and champagne and here I am on my own wedding day, and I'm... eh... em... eh... still thinking.
Matthew: Well, can I ask about what?
Charles: No... no... I think, best not.
Tom: Excellent wedding hairstyle.
Fiona: There's a sort of greatness to your lateness.
Charles: Thanks, it's not achieved without real suffering.
[signing to David]
Serena: I probably I'm naking tols of nistakes
Serena: Excuse me?
[points out Charles's brother, who is talking to Charles in sign language]
Serena: Who's the boy over there? In the grey?
Matthew: Name's David.
Serena: [watching David admiringly] He's something of a dish, isn't he.
Matthew: I've always thought so.
Serena: Why are they... why are they...?
[mimicking the sign language]
Matthew: Oh, the dish can't hear.
Serena: Gosh...
Matthew: Yeah. Silent, but deadly attractive.
[Charles and David are conversing in sign language with Carrie present]
Charles: We were buying her a wedding dress.
David: Pathetic excuse. Who's she marrying?
Charles: Some total penis.
David: What is it about penises that they get such great wives?
Scarlett: They say rubber's mainly for perverts. Don't know why. Think it's very practical, actually. I mean, you spill anything on it and it just comes off. I suppose that could be why the perverts like it.
[Charles is translating what his brother David is saying about Carrie in sign language]
David: [signing] Beautiful breasts.
Charles: Err, he says, "That's a beautiful place. Hilly."
Matthew: I remember the first time I saw Gareth on a dancefloor. I feared lives would be lost.
Scarlett: [At wedding one, the bride walks down the aisle] Isn't she beautiful?
Fiona: Scarlett, you're blind, she looks like a big meringue.
Gareth: We had the most delightful girl at our table. Carrie, apparently her fiancé's terribly grand and owns half of Scotland. How about you?
Charles: I seem to be stuck in the wedding from hell, ghosts of girlfriends past at every turn. Next thing I'll bump into Henrietta and the nightmare will be complete.
Henrietta: Hello Charles.
Charles: Hello Hen, how are you?
[Hen bursts into tears]
Charles: Fuck-a-doodle-doo!
Gareth: Scarlotta! Fabulous dress. The ecclesiastical purple and the pagan orange symbolizing the mystical symbiosis in marriage between the heathen and Christian traditions?
Scarlett: That's right.
Charles: Another wedding invitation. And a list. Lovely.
Tom: Did anyone else tread in a cowpat? No, thought not.
[first lines]
Charles: [wakes up and looks at his bedside clock] Oh... *fuck*! Fuck!
Gareth: The castle beckons, I think Tom.
Fiona: Do you think I'd hate him as much if he wasn't my brother?
Tom: Well, let's face the facts. If you weren't certain you wanted to marry her today, of all days - i.e., your wedding day - then it must have been the right decision, mustn't it?
[Fiona looks at him as though she's about to say, "Bugger off, Tom," for the umpteenth time, then reaches out and touches his shoulder affectionately]
Fiona: Quite right, Tom.
David: How are you doing?
Charles: You remember the time you started dad's boat and the propeller cut my leg to shreds?
David: Yeah?
Charles: This is worse.
Carrie: Our timing has been very bad.
Charles: Yes it has been. Very bad.
Carrie: It's been a disaster.
Charles: It has been, as you say, very bad indeed.
Lydia: [Suddenly passionate] Bernard!
[at Carrie's wedding in Scotland]
Gareth: It's Brigadoon! It's Bloody Brigadoon!
Matthew: Sorry we're so late. The others are just parking the car, I thought we'd all go with Tom.
Charles: Late? So late?
Matthew: Yeah. It's 9:45.
Charles: 9:45?
Matthew: Yep. 45 minutes until "I do".
Charles: There I was, standing there in the church, and for the first time in my whole life I realised I totally and utterly loved one person. And it wasn't the person next to me in the veil. It's the person standing opposite me now... in the rain.
Carrie: Is it still raining? I hadn't noticed.
[after running into his cousin, Deirdre]
Tom: Golly... bloody Thunderbolt City!
[Charles and Carrie are in bed after the first wedding, removing each other's clothes]
Carrie: What about this? Do you think a vicar would think... things had slipped just a little bit... out of his control?
Charles: I think he might. This kind of thing is really meant... to bring the honeymoon into the service itself.
Carrie: Why do you think it's called "honeymoon"?
Charles: Um, I don't know... I suppose it's, uh, "honey" because it's sweet as honey, and "moon" because it's the first time a husband got to see his wife's bottom.
George the boor at The Boatman: If I speak with the tongues of men and of angels but have not love, I am as a sounding gong or a clanging cymbal.
Gareth: Good point.

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