— No, you can't come, you're pregnant.
— You can't go, I'm pregnant!
— He's clueing.
— What?
— He's clueing for looks.
The point I'm trying to make is that I am the most unpleasant, rude, ignorant and all-round obnoxious arsehole that anyone could possibly have the misfortune to meet. I am dismissive of the virtuous, unaware of the beautiful and uncomprehending in the face of the happy. So if I didn't understand I was being asked to be best man, it is because I never expected to be anybody's best friend.
— What is that?
— It's a tyre level.
— Why?
— Cos there were loads a smackheads in there and one of them might need help with a tyre.
— I'll see you tonight.
— What's tonight?
— I'll text instructions.
— Yeah, I'll text you if I'm available.
— You are, I checked.
— I just can't believe it! Him sitting in his chair again. Oh, isn't it wonderful, Mr Holmes?
— I can barely contain myself.
— Oh, he really can, you know.
Anybody who wears a hat as stupid as this isn't in the habit of hanging around other people, is he?