Weddings — they’re not for blokes

WHAT KATI DID NEXT:

TURNING on the TV, I happened to stumble across a programme about weddings.

Ours is so far over we’re looking towards the divorce — not really — but did you know you can now order a divorce cake? What is the world coming to?

I digress. It was less a programme about weddings, I suppose, as about the groom organising everything for the whole do.

And by everything I do mean everything, from the hen night to the first dance, from the reception to the — bear with me while I choke — wedding dress.

What type of foolish woman would allow her man to be the arbiter of all things fashion, especially when it comes to the most important dress of your life?

How often in one’s life, unless one is Vicky Beckham, does one get to spend an enormously disproportionate amount of hard-earned cash on a smidgen of chiffon.

Bearing in mind though that the dress this young man had in mind for his bride-to-be was not just a smidgen of chiffon, it had rows and rows of bells and whistles.

Ruffles, sequins, tiers, it was itself a cake, although the cake was larger, whiter and more ostentatious.

My favourite wedding programme ever was the one about the Romany weddings.

Literally, and I do mean literally, these young women couldn’t a) get through the door of their house b) into the carriage of their choice and c) through the church doors, the dresses were so huge.

They were bold and brash but the ladies in them seemed unimaginably happy and that to me is what it’s all about.

So I repeat, at what point do you think it would be okay to allow your husband-to-be choose that dress for you?

You will only be disappointed will you not? They weren’t there when you were eight, staring at your auntie walking down the aisle thinking, “blimey I won’t be putting those shoes with that veil when I get married”.

They don’t have the wedding gene you see. Why do you think the phrase Bridezilla has been coined. It’s not about the blokes I can tell you.

Ladies, my advice, buy the dress yourself and wow him at the altar. It’s downhill from there. Just joking.

Anyone got the number of a cake maker?