74. Humps

In 2004 Lucy, my younger daughter, got married.  I, of course, had to make the “Father of the Bride” speech.  I haven’t been to many weddings and so I wasn’t very sure what was expected of me.  I knew that I was supposed to say nice things about the bride and the groom and that was easy enough but what else should I say?

Caroline suggested that I tried to say something funny.  I have a thing about speed bumps. What a misnomer. If anything, they slow you down!  I thought of a little joke I could make about them but the question was, at whose expense?  I decided that I shouldn’t say anything remotely smutty in connection with Lucy or David the groom but that Lucy’s godmother and her husband (let’s call them Janet and John – some of you will know who they really are) were a fair and easy target.

The moment came and as I concluded my short and probably dull discourse, both Janet and John sat there, half listening but revelling in the comfort and glow that comes when you have finished all the champagne that someone else has paid for and were now trying assiduously to test the capacity of the wine cellar, again at my expense.

“At that table over there,” I said, pointing airily in the general direction of their table, “hidden behind those many, many empty wine bottles, is Janet, Lucy’s godmother and her husband John.

“They had an interesting visit to Longleat a few years ago,” I told the 80 or so guests.

“They arrived at the gatehouse at the end of the long drive at about half past ten in the morning but they didn’t make it to the actual entrance of the Safari and Adventure Park until two o’clock in the afternoon.”

“The problem,” I continued, wondering whether the several old ladies from Middlesbrough who made up a large part of my audience would get the joke and would not be too shocked if they did, “was that there was a sign at the start of the drive saying ‘Hump Every 50 Yards’ and always ready for a challenge, that’s exactly what they did.”

A few people were kind enough to laugh a little but not Janet.  I was watching her as I delivered the punch line and there wasn’t even the flicker of a smile across her face.

Nothing was ever said about the matter – until last night.

Yesterday was my birthday and John, Janet, Caroline and I went out to celebrate it in a rather nice restaurant.  At about 10:30 and having consumed the best part of two bottles of wine (which he insisted on paying for), John leant across the table towards me.

“Can I ask you a question?” he slurred.

“Of course,” I told him.

“Do you remember, at Lucy’s wedding, telling everyone about Janet and me at Longleat?

I nodded.

“Who told you about that?” he demanded.  “It wasn’t me was it?  Janet thinks I told you once when I’d been drinking.”

For the last seven years they have been accusing each other of disloyalty and gross indiscretion. 

“How did he know?  You must have told him,” is what they have been saying to each other and all the while both of them have been inwardly worried that it was they who had blabbed but were so drunk when they did that they couldn’t remember doing it.

They were both very relieved when I told them that I could have made any number of couples the butt of the joke and it was just chance that made me use them.

Naturally, Caroline and I were very keen to find out what actually happened and we questioned them intensively. 

It seems that there is a secluded wooded area adjacent to the Longleat Drive that will forever have a special place in Janet’s and John’s hearts and memories.