Every working DJ has stories to tell of comedy goings-on and calamities at their gigs, and I’m no different! Now and then, I’ll update the ‘Tales’ category with the latest and greatest stuff….
First one comes from my very early days as a wedding jock. Really nice venue out in the wilds of North Essex, wonderfully sunny day, Pimms on the lawn as the evening guests began to arrive, you get the picture….. I was being helped by my 13-year-old brother for the first time. He’d actually been more help than hindrance for a change, and the gear was put up in record time. We strode out onto the lawn and grabbed a glass of Pimms each as it was the only drink available before the bar opened. I didn’t consider it too alcoholic for my young sibling as it mostly consisted of apples, orange peel and floating pineapple bits. We sank them pretty quickly because it was so hot….and he returned to the table for another one…..and another one….and another. By now, it was time for the First Dance so I beckoned everyone inside to gather round and welcome our new bride and groom in the traditional manner. Only problem was, the two people stood in front of me were dressed in ripped jeans, heavy metal (well-worn) t-shirts and scruffy boots. I asked them to step aside and let our bride & groom take the centre stage (at which point I was still scanning the room trying to find them. It isn’t usually difficult to spot a huge white dress..) They laughed at me and insisted I just ‘get on with it.’ As politely as I could over the mic, I asked them again to move back and allow our new happy couple the centre of the floor for their dance. Looking increasingly agitated, the heavy rocker bloke strode towards me, leant forwards and whispered into my ear, “We ARE the f**king bride and groom. We got changed.” I hit the play button immediately……
With tail suitable between legs, I looked round to my brother for whatever morale support a 13-year-old could possibly give me at this point, only to see him sliding slowly down the wall he was leaning against, Pimms in hand and silly grin on face. He spent the rest of the evening slouched on the floor, complaining of headache and dizziness. He’s still very much the same today, seventeen years on. But he doesn’t drink Pimms anymore.
Nice story and knowing your brother I can tell it must be true. Of course, umpteen years on you’d boldly tell the bride and groom to stop being a pair of attention seeking tw*ts and go and get changed!
No, not Emmo’s! 17 years ago he would have been 16! And my brother has been more than compensated since…. he probably owes me a small national debt by now.