smokingboot (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
smokingboot) wrote2003-10-13 11:41 pm
smokingboot) wrote2003-10-13 11:41 pm
F*** Off Fabio
Old London chum Golden Girl came up from London to Leeds today, ostensibly to teach some idiots how to break their computers, but really to eat pizza round here and froth about her wedding.
GG's wedding was on a sunny day in September. The bride was a golden curled goddess, the groom was an Andy Garcia clone, and we all had ourselves a wonderful time, as evidenced by many photos, all of which she showed me together with, I promise you, four and a half hours of camcorder footage.
The professional photographer, a pain in the arse from Texas, proved more than worth her exorbitant fee and appalling people skills. The photos look like a shoot for Vogue Wedding of the Year. There had been momentary distress about a potential lack of video, due to Golden Girl's professional flunkeys pulling out at the last minute. The solution: Spend £500 on a camcorder and tell Fabio to wander around with it, recording the ambience of their big day.
Fabio is going to be unique in this LJ. He alone will go by his name rather than a secret squirrel tag, by dint of having said name taken in vain all day and all night throughout the nuptuals, simply for doing what the bride and groom wanted.
Fabio is merely a gifted and kindly chum. The camcorder was new to him, as was the wholesale abuse its presence engendered in the increasingly drunk guests. I remember Fabio that night (vaguely) and the only thing that sticks in my mind is the constant repetition of a certain saxon expletive anytime he pointed the camcorder at anybody at all. As the party continued, his job became increasingly fraught with peril, all faithfully recorded by the camcorder:
'Young Man, if you point that thing at me one more time I will tell you to f*** off!' (Groom's mother)
'My message is, I love you both, you're fantastic people and it's been a great - are you zooming that f***ing thing in on my chest?'
(Head Bridesmaid)
'Does it do sound? F***!' (Bride's mother)
'F*** OFF FABIO!'
(Dinner tables 1,2,4,5,6,7,10 through 15)
'Fabio, you twat, not us, the fireworks! In the f***ing sky, mate!'
(Groom's brother)
'It's a party Fabio, not the f***ing Blair Witch Project!'
(Best Man)
Four and a half hours worth. That's a lot of ambience. Now it is time for me to add a comment of my own, especially as Fabio will never hear or suspect these words.
'Fabio! Mate! You know all that camcording you did at the wedding?
It's fucking brilliant!'
GG's wedding was on a sunny day in September. The bride was a golden curled goddess, the groom was an Andy Garcia clone, and we all had ourselves a wonderful time, as evidenced by many photos, all of which she showed me together with, I promise you, four and a half hours of camcorder footage.
The professional photographer, a pain in the arse from Texas, proved more than worth her exorbitant fee and appalling people skills. The photos look like a shoot for Vogue Wedding of the Year. There had been momentary distress about a potential lack of video, due to Golden Girl's professional flunkeys pulling out at the last minute. The solution: Spend £500 on a camcorder and tell Fabio to wander around with it, recording the ambience of their big day.
Fabio is going to be unique in this LJ. He alone will go by his name rather than a secret squirrel tag, by dint of having said name taken in vain all day and all night throughout the nuptuals, simply for doing what the bride and groom wanted.
Fabio is merely a gifted and kindly chum. The camcorder was new to him, as was the wholesale abuse its presence engendered in the increasingly drunk guests. I remember Fabio that night (vaguely) and the only thing that sticks in my mind is the constant repetition of a certain saxon expletive anytime he pointed the camcorder at anybody at all. As the party continued, his job became increasingly fraught with peril, all faithfully recorded by the camcorder:
'Young Man, if you point that thing at me one more time I will tell you to f*** off!' (Groom's mother)
'My message is, I love you both, you're fantastic people and it's been a great - are you zooming that f***ing thing in on my chest?'
(Head Bridesmaid)
'Does it do sound? F***!' (Bride's mother)
'F*** OFF FABIO!'
(Dinner tables 1,2,4,5,6,7,10 through 15)
'Fabio, you twat, not us, the fireworks! In the f***ing sky, mate!'
(Groom's brother)
'It's a party Fabio, not the f***ing Blair Witch Project!'
(Best Man)
Four and a half hours worth. That's a lot of ambience. Now it is time for me to add a comment of my own, especially as Fabio will never hear or suspect these words.
'Fabio! Mate! You know all that camcording you did at the wedding?
It's fucking brilliant!'