Capital YV, Sir Archie has thus far excelled himself as Best Man - although he'll be soiling himself when it comes to his imminent speech.
We won a few quid on the ponies, had a raucous meal in a dodgy Mexican restaurant (complete with sombreros), where the varmints tried to overcharge us £40, but we didn't hold it against 'em being completely snorkled, stopping only to take a dump in a plantpot by way of recompense.
All topped off with an expensive evening in Cardiff's finest titty bar, then a night enjoying the sights - namely, mounted police shepherding some sense into the drunk Welshies, who are all as nuts as legend suggests.
Oh, almost came to blows with my good friend 'Amazing' Grace, who couldn't understand that it was I who was the centre of attention, not he.
FLASHMAN STRIKES AGAIN!
Paul Rodgers is not the best thing since fried Fred.