On the day of my fathers wedding
He was nowhere to be found
I searched all the hired rooms in the hotel without success
Until a bellboy noted that he was still asleep in his bed
And was complaining that he had been unable to sleep
Because the bellboys had kept him awake
My mother was waiting for me when I entered the main reception hall
She told me that she was having problems with the wedding singer
Who was not sure what she should wear
I spoke to the girl who had more than a passing resemblance
To an American actress that I could not name
And told her that she would look good in anything from sackcloth to Chanel
But she insisted on visiting the carpet shop next door to look for clothes
My mother and I accompanied her and after various selections
She emerged from the fitting room wearing only a pair of Oxford Bags
We both complemented her on her choice and I gave her a set of plastic vampire teeth
As she was on her way to the newsagents to pick up Joan Jett’s guitar