The Wedding Singer

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