Wishin' for a wedding nightmare
One of the sure signs of summer - along with the smell of freshly cut grass, cocktail umbrellas, and magazine articles telling you to exfoliate your toes - is watching all your glorious sun-soaked weekends fill up with weddings.
So it makes sense that there have been lots of Weddiquette lists (telling people all the Do and Don'tEvenThinkAboutIt rules) knocking about this week.
Brides and grooms were informed that flower garlands and ice-cream trucks have had their day in the sun (what soulless monster decides a Mr Whippy van is passé?), and that small intimate affairs are preferable to a blow-out knees-up.
There were also rules for guests. These included; don't take a business call during the vows, don't stick your fingers in the cake, don't dance aggressively, don't wear a bridal gown if you're not the bride and don't crack on to the groom.
Weddings specialists' tut-tutted at this sort of behaviour, but does anyone else think that all of the above would kinda, sorta, maybe enhance a wedding?
Isn't there small part in us all hoping, praying even, that something truly abysmal will happen on other people's Big Day?
For example, a few years back, a friend of mine was at a wedding in a quaint but lovely church in the country.
Everything was running like clockwork - the bride was late, the groom looked proud as punch and slightly terrified, the fascinators were out in force, a baby wouldn't stop crying and the priest was rattling through the service.
So far, so unremarkable.
But then the unthinkable happened. The couple had just reached the exchange of vows when suddenly there was an almighty roar as the doors of the church were thrown open.
Everyone wheeled around to see a very angry and very noisy middle-aged man standing in the nave.
"This can't wait!" he bellowed.
Stunned, the priest gestured towards the couple with a quizzical "We're kind of in the middle of something here" expression.
But nevertheless, the man persisted.
"Who here?" he shouted eyeballing the bridal party and congregation.
"Owns a 2002-D Mitsubishi Spacewagon? Because it's parked outside my drive and I can't get out."
There was a pause. Half-the congregation thought he was joking - he was not.
"THIS HAPPENS EVERY WEEKEND," the incensed man continued. "I am not leaving until the owner of that car shifts it."
There was than an excruciatingly awkward pause, before one of the guests excused himself and shuffled out of the church.
The service resumed, the readings were lovely and at dinner everyone raved about the beef, and wasn't the father of the bride's speech a hoot altogether?
But none of that really mattered because the ONLY thing anyone wanted to talk about was the man who burst into a church to complain about a space wagon blocking his drive.
It was such a fantastic conversation starter.
So I encourage this sort of horrific behaviour at weddings - fights over bouquet tosses, offensive and aggressive dance routines, swearing during speeches, bust-ups and punches and angry middle-aged men roaring their heads off.
At the end of the day, a wedding is not simply an exchange of vows - it's a genuine production and you need twists and turns, as well as panto villains and heroes to make it truly memorable.
Diddy and perfect passive aggressive upstaging
Whatever the inverse of an Instagram Husband is - Sean Combs must surely be that.
Combs/Diddy arrived at the Met Gala on Monday night dressed in a Rick Owens suit complete with bejewelled cape with his girlfriend Cassie by his side.
According to Vogue, the two spent hours ahead of the ball "lounging at home with eye masks and hot tea" as they prepared for "a night of fashion, high-wattage performances, and lots of posing".
When they arrived and the bank of photographers started taking pictures of his missus, Combs got "tired".
So he decided to lie down in the middle of the carpet like some sort of Roman emperor/ Lionel Richie on the cover of 'You Are'/ a bored husband waiting outside H&M fitting rooms on a Saturday afternoon.
He made his point - it's all about me even when it's not about me. It was the best thing about the Met (I loved it more than Rihanna's make-up or the fact that Kim Kardashian picked food out of Ashley Graham's teeth).
It was such a perfect example of passive aggressive upstaging. Pulling off this calibre of scene stealing takes an endless source of confidence.
While Combs' effort was commendable, it pales in comparison to the greatest celebrity side-swiping scene stealing in history; when Joan Crawford collected the 1963 best-actress Oscar on behalf of Anne Bancroft.
Joan had not been nominated for an Oscar, her biggest Hollywood rival Bette Davis had been so Joan did what any actress worth her salt would do; she contacted all the other nominees in advance of the awards offering to accept the gong if they couldn't make it.
Anne Bancroft couldn't attend, she accepted Joan's offer and won the Oscar.
And so all the limelight was on Crawford - while Bette presumably sat in the dark simmering in her seat.
Combs isn't at that level yet, but in a few years he could reach that diva-esque pinnacle.
Galway International Arts Festival
Brian Wilson, Enda Walsh and Ladysmith Black Mambazo will all be there.
Has apologised for mispronouncing Saoirse Ronan's name during the announcement of the 2016 Golden Globe nominees. All is forgiven.
David Beckham's 42nd birthday meal
Gammon, egg, chips, beans, mushy peas, coleslaw, and pineapple rings? Not pretty.
David Lloyd gyms are now offering well-being classes where you crawl into a single bed and nap for 45 minutes, while the instructor plays whale music. Couldn't you just stay at home?