Pippa Middleton, sister of Catherine, Duchess of Cambridge (the former Kate Middleton) married James Matthews, a hedge fund manager, on Saturday in lavish style in Berkshire, England. Much like the current White House, the team behind Pippa’s wedding has not been immune to leaks about everything from the guest list to her wardrobe mandates — or, here, a draft of Pippa’s annotated wedding toast.
Good evening! I realize it’s unorthodox for the bride to give a toast, but you know I’ve never been one for strict rules. [PAUSE FOR LAUGHTER] Having said that, please know the 48-hour social media embargo for guests is very real, as I should hate for our most private moments to leak for free before we’ve even wheeled out the ice sculpture of me astride a dragon. [POTENTIAL APPLAUSE] Oh, and when you bring your completed nondisclosure agreement to the notary table, please don’t linger between the guest book and the flower mosaic of James and my faces, because you’ll be blocking The Daily Mail’s view from among the hedgerows.
Right, thank you so much for coming. It means the world to have my closest friends and family around me — or at least near me, in the case of those seated at the back. Sorry, Kate! Couldn’t have George swimming in the chocolate fountain. Again. [BEAM LOVINGLY IF KATE SEEMS CROSS.] And you all look marvelous! Frankly, many of you may even want to thank me for my one-event-two-outfits requirement. It’s like a do-over, isn’t it? Changing in the back seat of your car isn’t that inconvenient, and goodness knows, it’s hard to relax if your togs are wet with joyful tears over true love’s tender culmination, so you’re quite welcome.
To those who were not present for our vows, I apologize for the confusion. [DON’T LOOK AT MEGHAN.] While crowd control is the most vital part of every sacred pledge of eternal devotion, clearly those “no ring, no bring” stories were a very, very long-running gag that we simply forgot to deny, and you were all actually invited and not just certain people who happen to be dating extremely important other people. [REALLY DO NOT LOOK AT MEGHAN.] I regret that my husband neglected to let you in on the joke, and please rest assured I have already forgotten all your texts and emails and voice messages and that one box full of ticked-off bees. [DON’T LOOK AT MEGHAN. THERE IS NO MEGHAN.] To make it up to you, the wedding ceremony will be screened in the north wing of the tent every 20 minutes, until everyone passes the quiz and we can serve the cake.
Speaking of treats, thank you to my beloved brother, whose business provided wonderful marshmallows with our faces on them — sorry, “multisensory magical marshmallows” — for everyone to take home. You can imagine how utterly gutted I was when a teensy accident during today’s fireworks rehearsal set them ablaze. [IF CAN’T CONJURE TEARS, STAB HAND WITH FORK.] We shall have to muddle through and imagine what might have been.
I owe an enormous emotional debt to my parents, who really heard me when I said, “I will never be truly happy unless I’m married in a million-pound greenhouse.” And Kate, or Catherine — I’m afraid I can’t keep straight what I’m to call you anymore — it was selfless of you to sacrifice being in the wedding to focus on keeping Charlotte’s barrettes at the designated angle and George from eating the floral arrangements. But I still felt your support as keenly as if you were next to me, rather than in the spot I saved for you behind that potted tree. And to William and Harry, the brothers I never had [BLOW ACTUAL BROTHER WHATSHISNAME A KISS.], thanks for bravely taking a break in your harrowing royal schedules to be here with me. Harry, I hope my legal initiation into wedded bliss finally ends our wild, covert love affair. [ALLOW LAUGHS, BUT KEEP IT REAL.] No, no. We’re just terribly good friends, and absolutely no one here should feel even the slightest bit awkward when I say, Harry, I really shall miss the poodle, nudge-nudge. [STARE SMUGLY AT MEGHAN BECAUSE WHY NOT.]
Finally, to my beloved husband, Roger Federer. [HOUSE WILL BE BROUGHT DOWN BY UPROARIOUS LAUGHTER.] Yes, Roger, I see you over there. Thank you for choosing the blossom of two people’s consensual passion over the French Open. I dare say Andy Murray has a lot to answer for here. Just what kind of patriot is he?
Right, the first of 12 courses is coming now. Please do follow the wine pairing suggestions or else you’ll ruin everything. After you are sated and amazed, rest comfortably knowing tonight’s menu will be in my next party-planning book, “Pip Pip Hooray,” all about throwing your dream wedding on a budget. [IF LAUGHTER, SHOOT MURDEROUS LOOK, CANCEL OPEN BAR.]
Thank you again! We’ll next gather at our stately home in a few years, when James and I christen our first womb-fruit at a three-day purification ritual. You can expect the first planning memo on Monday. Cheers!
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