Dave, if you can, could you please read out the following letter of explanation as to why I'm not at the wedding and my best wishes.


Dear Sarah and Darren,
I am sincerely apologetic that I am unable to attend this GLORIOUS day for you both and subsequently ruin it with loud meows, excessive laughter, and dancing all sexy like with your mothers.
Barring the meowing, that's exactly how I spoiled my cousins wedding. People are still trying to block out the immortal image of me groping my own grandmother as we dirty danced the night away, while the sun set behind us and we tripped on the bottles of bubbly that I had MC Hammered into my blood stream.
So maybe it's best that my wife spent my "go to NZ for wedding" money on hoop skirts and tickets to the new Paris Hilton movie.

Darren, I was at a karaoke bar the other night and I saw a man in a cowboy hat, and I thought to myself how it would suit you so much better, in those tight faded jeans, hand me down cowboy boots, and sleeveless turtleneck shirt. I felt homesick for the time that you and I sipped appletini's in that dimly lit bar that I can't remember the name of, and watched the sun rise over the pacific as we leaned against the blossoming pohutikawa tree.
And Sarah, I don't think I'll ever forget the time that you tried to tell me that you actually liked me with a straight face.
I was so proud of you.

But not as proud as I am of you both today, and I wish you both the best of luck in the future.

And in the future, when you are woken at dawn by two bumbling drunks in your front lawn, howling like cats, remember the good times you had last time, when you opened your door to them and let them sleep on your couch.
It could well be those two hunky blokes again, reliving an emotionally divine point in their lives.
Thank you, and god bless.

Miles.