As a tireless campaigner for even interspecies marriages (mammals only – I’m a conservative after all), and also as a part-time resident of France, I’m ecstatic about the historic event to take place in Montpelier on Wednesday.
Vincent Austin and Bruno Boileau will become wife/husband and husband/wife, with the socialist mayor officiating at the ceremony.
Alas, my wedding invitation got lost in the post, so I can’t share with you some of the important details. Such as, is it Vincent or Bruno who’ll be the blushing bride? I had to double-designate both, but that’s ignorance speaking.
The photographs don’t throw light on the matter. Vincent is taller, so one would think that for the purposes of the glorious occasion he’ll be the bridegroom. He’s also 10 years older, which would traditionally cast him in the role of husband, even though the couple’s parents have made it clear that this once they won’t necessarily stand on tradition.
However, Vincent also looks somewhat more effeminate, which may suggest that he’ll be the bride and it’ll be Bruno carrying him across the threshold of the bridal suite, not vice versa. Or perhaps they’ll just hold hands and tiptoe into the room together.
And speaking of vice, you might think I’m being unnecessarily inquisitive and pedantic, but as a veteran attendee of many weddings, including a few of my own, I know that details can make or break the festivities.
For example, I hope the happy couple won’t forgo the traditional nuptial attire. Vincent will look gorgeous in a white dress, with the train carried by the bridesmaids (of any of the three sexes). Fleur d’oranger and a gossamer veil are also a must, what with France being a conservative country.
At the same time Bruno will look dashing in a pink morning coat and red-striped, tight-fitting trousers. I’ll leave up to him the choice of a flower for his buttonhole, but a pansy would match the coat to perfection.
We all know how music can add grandeur to any ceremony, and in this instance especially so, given the ground-breaking nature of the event. It’s not up to me to make suggestions but, fancying myself a connoisseur, I shall anyway.
The choice, I’m convinced, should reflect both the traditional union being entered into and also the slightly – every so slightly! almost imperceptibly! – modern spin on the tradition. To that end, nothing would accompany the event better than Tom Robinson’s immortal classic Sing If You’re Glad to Be Gay – performed on a Baroque pipe organ. I mean, aren’t you tired of Mendelssohn’s Wedding March?
And speaking of organs – no, I’m not going to say anything salacious, you pervert. Who do you think I am? I was going to talk about a few concerns voiced by France’s organs of law enforcement.
You see, there’s a very distinct possibility that some of the uninvited guests may be throwing at the newlyweds things other than rice and confetti. I don’t know if I’m making myself clear, but Molotov cocktail isn’t a drink with which to raise a toast to the happy couple.
To prevent such outrages, it’s predicted that les flics will outnumber the guests about three to one – especially since François Hollande has blessed the happy couple by warning that he wouldn’t tolerate any terrorist acts. (François is beautiful when he’s angry, by the way.)
Admittedly, the presence of so many policemen may diminish the solemnity of the wedding, but the least they can do to maintain stylistic integrity would be to attach pansies to their batons, pistols and Taser guns.
I do hope the ceremony will go without a hitch. And I’m proud of the French legal system, whose speed of action puts ours to shame. After all, Vincent and Bruno will tie the knot just days after such unions were given a green, or rather rainbow-coloured, light. None of this toing and froing that’s delaying the onset of happiness in Britain.
Are you listening, your Lordships? Are you taking notes? I do hope you are – and I know you’ll vote the right way when the equal-happiness bill goes through your House.