First things first, telegrams. Well, they're not actually telegrams, we just call them telegrams. I don't know why. Wedding tradition. Because we don't have enough of that already, apparently. "To Mr and Mrs Watson, so sorry I'm unable to be with you on your special day. Good luck and best wishes, Mike Stanford." "To John and Mary, all good wishes for your special day, with love and many big...squishy cuddles from Stella and Ted." "Mary, lots of love..." Yeah... "Poppet, Oodles of love and heaps of good from Cam. Wish your family could have seen this." "Special day...", "Very special day...", "Love...", "Love", "Love...", "Love...", "Love...". Bit of a theme, you get the general gist. People are basically fond.
— Sorry, that was one more deduction than I was really expecting.
— Deduction?
— Increased appetite, change of taste perception... you were sick this morning... You assumed it was just wedding nerves. You got angry with me when I mentioned it to you. All the signs are there.
— The signs?
— The signs of three.
— What?!
— Mary, I think you should do a pregnancy test. Well, the statistics for the first trimester are...
— Shut up! Just shut up.
= Sorry.
— How did he notice before me? I'm a bloody doctor.
— It's your day off.
— It's your day off!
— Stop. Stop panicking.
— I'm not panicking.
— I'm panicking, I'm pregnant!
— Don't panic! None of you panic. Absolutely no reason to panic.
— Oh, and you'd know, of course!
— Yes, I would.
— Oh, I wish you weren't... whatever it is you are.
— I know.
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.
— Jeff, the gents. Loos now, please.
— Greg!
— The loos, please.
— Why?
— Oh, I don't know, maybe it's your turn.
— Yeah, actually, now you mention it.
— Mr Holmes, Mr Holmes!
— Hello, Archie, what's your theory? Get the right and there's a headless nun in it for you.
— What do we say about coincidences?
— The universe is rarely so lazy.
— If I try and hug him, stop me.
— Certainly not.
— He's clueing.
— What?
— He's clueing for looks.
— John, wake up. Went to... Yeah. The game is... something.
— ... On?
— Yeah, that, that.
— I have an international reputation. Do you have an international reputation?
— No, I don't have an international reputation.
— No. And I can't even remember what for. It's crime... something or other.