Father-in-law: Ladies and gentlemen, and friends of my daughter. There comes a time in every wedding reception when the man who paid the for the damn thing is allowed to speak a word or two of his own. And I should like to take this opportunity, sloshed as I may be, to say a word or two about Martin. As far as I'm concerned, my daughter could not have chosen a more delightful, charming, witty, responsible, wealthy, let's not deny it, well-placed, good-looking and fertile young man than Martin as her husband. And I therefore ask the question "Why the hell did she marry Gerald instead?"... because Gerald is a sort of man we used to describe at school as a complete prick! If I may use a gardening simile here, if his entire family may be likened to a compost heap (and I think they can) then Gerald is the biggest weed growing out of it. I think he's a sort of man people emigrate to avoid. I remember the first time I met Gerald, I said to my wife (she's the lovely woman propping up that old lush of a mother of his) either this man is suffering from serious brain damage or the new vacuum cleaner's just arrived. As for his family, they are quite simply the most intolerable herd of steaming social animals that I have ever had the misfortune of turning my nose up to. I spurn you as I would spurn a rabid dog. I would like to propose a toast to the caterers. And to the pigeons who crapped on the groom's family's limousine at the church. Er....as for the rest of you around this table not directly related to me, you can f*ck off. I wouldn't trust any of you to sit the right way on a toilet seat.