While recently on holiday in Germany, my brother and I found ourselves desperately searching for a beer in the quaint old town of Bad Tölz- a town with more cows than people. In our epic quest, which spanned the seediest casino in Germany and an abundance of ice cream parlours, we accidentally stumbled upon a full-blown Chelsea wedding party in a traditional Bavarian beer garden. The scene we encountered was an intimidating one: around 170 men and women, almost exclusively from the more expensive part of London and almost all as gorgeous as they were rich, dressed in traditional Bavarian costumes. Undeterred, we pushed our way through the cesspit of flamboyant festivities to the bar and began our inaugural wedding crashing.
So if you’re planning to crash a wedding anytime soon, here are the six tips necessary to ensure it is a successful one…
- Find yourself a ‘lifejacket’
When love-drunk people start noticing your lack of lederhosen, they are going to have no issue making a beeline for you and asking exactly who it is that you know there. For this reason, you have a few fleeting seconds once entering the establishment to identify who is the weakest among the other guests: the man resolutely occupying the end of the bar, the woman dancing on tables guzzling down martinis like they’re holy water, the inbetween couple a good ten years older than the youngsters and ten years younger than the oldies- the choice is yours! Attach yourself to these sorry souls, and do not let go; they are now your ‘lifejackets’ for the evening, your ticket into the party and the unfortunate people you will latch on to when everyone else shuns you… and you must have no regrets in dragging them down with you. For me and my brother this meant the musician providing the evening’s entertainment (and who was actually really good and played an absolutely fire cover of Lord Echo’s ‘Thinking of You’), and a lovely risk analysist from London who was there with her boyfriend and admitted to knowing no one else. With these human buoyancy aids keeping us afloat, we climbed our way up the wedding’s social ladder until we were on the shortlist for the bridesmaids.
- Pay attention to the pants
If, like me, you find yourself at the bar next to a man literally oozing in class and practically sweating dollar bills and it becomes all too evident that you have nothing in common with this person (apart from an enviable credit score), look below the waist line with honest intentions. Remember, pants are a universal language, and every passing second of silence is an opportunity for his privileged eyes to bore into the back of your £5 haircutted skull and to enquire what on earth a piece of scum like you is doing in his presence. My first wedding crashing pants interaction came with a man whose trousers were so coral that it would cause permanent retinal damage to look straight at them. Apparently, coral pants man bought them “thinking they were bright orange rahhh, imagine my surprise when I found out they were coral rahhh”… it may be the dullest conversation you’ve ever been a part of, but at least you avoided any further interrogation for a little longer.
- The White Wine Spritzer Challenge
There will inevitably come a moment in your night where some social deviant who looks like Declan Donnelly on a diet of protein, steroids, and cocaine comes up to you and- presumably annoyed that he’s not had enough people compliment him on his decision to NOT adhere to the dress code and come in a more-than-revealing low cropped white V-neck T-shirt -dares you to buy a white wine spritzer for “his mate Dan”. This is a test. Do not flinch. Wedding guests like this can smell fear a mile off, and will be more than happy to manipulate you for petty gain. Hold you ground, and consider one of these four options:
- Punch the cheeky twat square in the nose. Not for the faint hearted. Violence isn’t usually permitted at a wedding, and considering you may find yourself surrounded by 50% of the Oxford rugby team, only attempt this if you are truly confident in your ability to do a Bruce Lee and absolutely Enter the Dragon that Donnelly wannabee.
- Buy ‘Dan’ a white wine spritzer. A practical option, this choice has the added benefit of proving you to be one of the craaazy lads, but comes at the cost of potentially marking you as someone who can be financially exploited- not that these people need any more money warming their gold-lined pockets. If you’re willing to be exploited for the evening though, then spritzer away… at least you’ll have a lifelong friend in Dan; remember, “Dan loves a white wine spritzer”.
- Buy a round of Jägerbombs for the table. The only thing these guys understand more than a casually metrosexual dare is an even bigger one. For that reason, consider raising the stakes by buying everyone a Jägerbomb and raising a glass to the bemused groom’s parents. It may be expensive, but it will buy you some precious time before people start to ask questions again.
- Ignore him. This guy probably wasn’t invited either.
4. Avoid the Bride at all costs!
Pretty self-explanatory really, but worth repeating. DO NOT FUCK WITH THE BRIDE! Unless you are a true professional, you should steer clear of the woman whose special day you are contaminating. The Bride is like one of those ghosts in Pac-Man and, at her wedding, her word is final. All it takes is for the Bride to lock you with some extremely fierce eyes for your presence at her party to become a lot less innocent and a lot more total dickhead than you planned it to be when you first walked in. I managed to maintain an average of a ten-metre distance between myself and the Bride- who shall remain nameless, because I never got close enough to ask her name -throughout the evening; anything less than that is wedding crashing suicide.
- Connections, Connections, Connections
It became immediately apparent to my brother and I that we were on an unprecedented scale of social outcasts. You got the feeling at this wedding that the guests around you owned about half the real estate in West London. Take for instance the young man- who for legal reasons I shall call Clive Bixby -who informed us that his uncle had a first name of ‘Sir’ and a surname of ‘Formula 1’, or the delightful girl who turned out to be the granddaughter of a rather renowned British actress, or the boy who had his dick so far up Google’s rectum his shaft was blue, red, yellow, and green; the connections were staggering. For that reason, you either go down the rocky route of the fanciful, and make the surrounding crowd believe you are more connected than a dot-to-dot illustration of Connect 4, or you play it honest, and inform everyone that your biggest claim to fame is that you once went to school with a girl who met Shayne Ward at a gym one time. Nothing says ‘class’ than a loose connection to a forgotten X-Factor winner.
- Cheers the groom
Fortune favours the brave, and to complete your wedding crashing experience, it is imperative that you leave a lasting impression. The easiest way to do this is to clink glasses with the groom, and drink to his health as his face slowly turns from one of merriment and gratitude to one of confusion and borderline suspicion. The groom at this particular wedding was a specimen to say the least. “Six foot six”, “a member of the SAS”, “a masters from Oxford”… just a few of the phrases his friends used to describe him. Nevertheless, my brother, a scrawny pacifist from Lancashire who gets a nosebleed whenever someone looks at him funny and who Mr. Groom could have snapped in half with his finely carved fingers, looked that majestic groom straight in between the eyes and gingerly touched the tip of his pint glass with his own. Extraordinary.
Our wedding crashing completed, we swiftly made our exit amidst a haze of confusion. By the end of the night, it appeared a good 1% of the congregation thought we weren’t total arseholes, a complete success if you ask me.
[My brother actually didn’t mind his identity being exposed, he just has really pretty eyes that are dangerous to see in any format.]