While being a best man is undoubtedly a remarkable privilege; the culmination of years of a friendship that has presumably veered with startling velocity from misdemeanour to mishap, it is also, undeniably, a bit of a faff.
I say this with confidence, though I should also pay tribute to my friends who, perhaps regrettably, bestowed the honour on me, even when the chances of them choosing a disorganised, perennially-late chap with what can be at times a rather niche sense of humour appeared regrettably slim.
Moreover, I know several men who have similarly undertaken the solemn task of best man-hood, and so, with giddy reckless abandon, have decided that such affiliation gives me license to write a bespoke “how-to” best man guide, climbing to, if all goes better than all of us are expecting at this point in proceedings, hitherto unexplored heights of estimable best man-hood.
Indulge me, as I debunk some myths and extend some entirely unwarranted advice surrounding the best man process, it is with certainty that I can assure you: you will thank me later.
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