EVERYONE said it. The bride’s father looked absolutely divine.

Well, all right. They didn’t quite say that. They said the bride.

But the bride’s father was glowing. With pre-speech perspiration and pride.

Tam and Tom were joining together in awful wedded matrimony and they both looked the part. And the wedding? The good thing was that everyone seemed to know exactly what to do.

Except for me.

The day before, as usual, I'd made a a donkey of myself at the church rehearsal. The vicar had patiently explained what the bride’s father had to do and put out his hand expectantly, indicating that I was to place the bride’s hand in his.

And, instead, I reached out to give it a good shake.

(When we left I asked one bridesmaid if she was confident she knew what she had to do?

“Oh yes,” she replied. “We bridesmaids stand in the front so the congregation can look at our bottoms.”

So she’d been listening closely as well.) But come the day it all went swimmingly.

Apart, that is, from The Curious Incident of the Lads’ Buttonholes. Best not to mention them. Or my untimely phone call to the the bride to sort out that logistical problem.

(Let’s just say she was very busy getting ready, time was precious, the buttonholes were at the hotel... and the groom and his pals were at the pub.) And, of course, there was that tricky moment during the ceremony when the solemnity was rudely interrupted after I returned to the pew.

I accidentally hoofed the kneeler with a kick reminiscent of a Jonny Wilkinson dropped goal at his very best.

When Jonny did something similar in Sydney 2003 the crowd went wild. When I did it in church, nobody applauded. They just stared.

Take away those blips and the wedding went with a smoothness usually associated with a Bangkok ladyboy’s chin. Or so I’m told.

There are, according to a message sent by Mr Dilloway, an old school friend of mine, important rules for weddings that must be observed. These involve:

  • Pecking orders and the sizes of ladies’ hats. No problems there. The bride’s mother, Frances, who looked uniquely charming, didn’t wear one.
  • Make sure you tell the bride’s mother she looks uniquely charming. The bride may be getting married but you’ll be with her mum for the rest of your life.
  • Don’t quip to the bride or groom that the Sale of Goods Act does not apply and no warranty is given or implied. It’s not funny.
  • Fathers of the bride must not dance when a camera is around. Or, indeed, when one isn’t around. And especially not that Travolta move that looks so good after a few champagnes.
  • Do not boast by saying that James, the nice one from this year’s The Apprentice, was among the guests.
  • Most important of all. Don’t take the mickey out of the groom. In 30 years’ time you may need him to wipe away your dribble.

But it was a wonderful day that went perfectly. And the only snapping to be heard was the sound of photos being taken.

The bride, by the way, did look divine. And the groom debonair.

(Oh, did I mention that that nice, funny James, from this year’s The Apprentice, was one of the guests?)

And, just for the record, the bride’s father wore a frock coat, a snazzy silver waistcoat, stripy trousers, a high-collared shirt with a purple cravat and a pair of very shiny black shoes in which he could see his pre-speech perspiring face.

Why, one admiring guest commented on his elegant outfit saying, “Look at Ed dressed up so smartly. He looks a proper nob.”

I hope that’s how he meant it spelt.