“Noooooo!” screeched the DJ, using her second mic. She was certain her £500 wireless microphone must be completely broken. The groom snatched the mic. from his bride and apologised sincerely. The DJ sighed with relief as she upped the volume and heard his apology.
The groom did a reasonable speech, thanking all the right people and complimenting his new wife. He handed the microphone to his best man who was already extremely drunk.
It soon became apparent why the best man had been drinking excessively. He had chosen this time to announce to everyone that he was in fact, gay. For years he had been secretly in love with his best friend, the groom. Today, he declared, was the worst day of his entire life.
There was silence in the room as the best man broke down and cried. The guests looked at each other, stunned. The bride stood up made a fist with her right hand, pulled back her flabby arm and punched the best man so hard, he fell back, onto the small table which held the wedding cake. Half the wedding guests gasped in shock and half of them roared with laughter. The bride picked up a large slab of cake and brought it down on her groom’s head as he sat watching the nightmare unfurl.
“What’s that for?” he asked in surprise.
“You shared a bed with him on your stag night. Don’t tell me you didn’t know he’s gay!”
The DJ knew it would be down to her to move things along and change the mood of this extraordinary wedding reception.
“Ladies and gentleman can we have three cheers for the new Mr & Mrs Hughes please….hip hip……”
Fortunately, the majority of the guests were keen to get on with the party, now that the cabaret seemed to be over and done with. They enthusiastically joined in with the cheering for the bridal couple. The DJ started the music and as Kool and The Gang’s ‘Celebration’ bounced off the walls and ceilings, the floor filled with dancers.
The DJ sighed. The bride and groom’s first dance together would have to wait. She needed to get the remainder of her fee from the best man before he passed out.
Money safely in her pocket, the DJ resumed her position on the stage and started to search for the bride and groom’s choice of song for their first dance.
It was usual, upon meeting a couple for the first time, for her to suggest that they let her select a special song for them: something appropriate which they might never have thought of alone, thereby making a brand new, special musical memory. Clients rarely took her up on this offer, though, preferring to dance their first dance as husband and wife to a track which was already special to them. Quite often it was a song that was totally unsuitable for a wedding and the DJ just smiled as they stepped onto the dance floor oblivious to the puzzled faces of their guests.
Today was one of those days when the DJ was amused by the choice of music for the first dance. 'We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together' by Taylor Swift was apparently the song the bride was singing at a karaoke night when she first spotted the groom, watching her from the bar. The DJ looked over at the couple who appeared to be struggling with the aftermath of the best man’s confession. She put Taylor Swift to the bottom of the list and looked up to see Lady Red Shoes wobbling across the dance floor, bumping shoulders with dancers as she attempted to walk in a straight line to the stage.
“Can you play something decent?” Lady Red Shoes demanded.
“Yes of course, if I have it.” The DJ replied sweetly. “Who is it by?”
“What d’you mean?”
“Something decent – who sings it?”
Lady Red Shoes didn’t get it at all. The DJ was clearly crazy. She turned and staggered back to her table to ask her son if he knew what the DJ was on about.
The party continued without further incident for the next hour or so. The DJ watched as Snake Eyes made his flamboyant entrance to the floor. She had come across him at many parties over the years. She hadn’t a clue what his real name was but she always thought of him as Snake Eyes because of the way he looked at all women as if they were prey. He had bright green reptilian eyes.
The DJ laughed as she watched the man gyrate his forty something year old hips in front of a group of attractive young women. They turned away from him but he wasn’t going to give up easily. The DJ scanned the room to see if his wife was with him today. She noted that the wife was watching and estimated that it would be no more than ten minutes until, as usual, Snake Eyes would have his pint poured over his head.
Suddenly, there was a commotion at the back of the room. The DJ strained to see what was going on now. In an alcove next to the cloakroom was a table laden with wedding gifts and a post box, into which guests had slipped wedding cards and envelopes containing gifts of money or shopping vouchers. Three of the small bridesmaids were being dragged away from the table, howling.
The tiny girls had been having a wonderful time, sitting under the table, helping with the unwrapping of the gifts. No doubt, they were hoping to find Barbie dolls or My Little Pony toys in the parcels, not cookbooks and towels! The post box had been tampered with as well and the DJ could see cards and cash scattered all over the floor.
“I love my work,” the DJ laughed to herself, “well most of the time anyway,” she sighed as she noticed Lady Red Shoes making her way back to the stage.
The DJ checked the time. 11pm: Delilah time.
As the opening chords of Tom Jones’ signature song rang out, a cheer went up, around the room. Uncles and cousins, old friends and teenagers draped their arms around each other’s shoulders and a great drunken roar threatened to rip off the roof. “I saw the light on the night as I passed by her window…na na na na na….”
The DJ let her eyes wander around the room. The best man was slumped over a table, fast asleep. A woman, who had been shouting angrily at her husband just a few moments ago, now had her arms around his waist as she encouraged him to sway back and forth, singing loudly. The grumpy expression on Lady Red Shoes’ face had changed into a big grin as she waved her champagne flute in the air, spilling it’s contents onto her auburn beehive, now collapsed into a lopsided tangled mess.
Lady Red shoes called up to the DJ. “I love this song. You’re lush, you are!”
The DJ smiled and not for the first time, wondered: is there anything more powerful than music? Except love, of course.