You may be asking why C. has given us both the honour of being his best man? We weren’t surprised that he chose us: we have all known each other since we were nine years old and we like to think we have always held a special place in his esteem. Being a few months older and wiser than he, he has always looked up to us for guidance and to set a moral example. However, as you will learn today, there have been occasions when he has fallen short of the high standards we have set for him.

But perhaps the real reason he has chosen two best men – as we hope to demonstrate – is that there are two sides to the charming groom you see before you.

Christian Aubray Bracken – a fine traditional name reflecting his continental lineage - but how many of us know him by this name? We need to first clear up the issue of how he is addressed. He has been called many things over the years, some of which don’t bear repeating on a day such as today.

[one of us read the names – one read the explanations]
1. Christian – his real name
2. Snaz – his nickname universally adopted since primary school – originating from an obscure leisurewear-related incident.
& 3. Woolhead – no explanation needed for that one.

But what about “Chris” you may ask? On this matter, we need to set the record straight. As 2 of his longest standing friends we have never used this abbreviation and we can only assume it gained currency as an unauthorised attempt at self-reinvention. On these grounds, we will not be using the word “Chris” on this special day.

Christian was born in Harlington Bedfordshire on 14/7/71, moving at a young age to Sheffield – where he made his parents proud by winning the local beautiful baby competition (aaah!!!). His trademark freckles are said to originate from Liane leaving her delicate-skinned baby out all day to fry in the sunshine on the beach. Whether this was accidental or a calculated move to improve his chances in further beauty competitions, we cannot confirm.

The young toddler was brought up to speak both German and English in the multilingual Bracken household. Struggling to manage the two in his formative years he would often speak a strange gobbledygook that made no sense in either tongue. A trait that has continued to this day.

We’d like to go into a little more detail on the 2 sides of C.A.B. – is he German or English… OR NEITHER?


Our paths crossed when the Bracken family moved to Welwyn when C. was only nine. And even at this young age, his relatives in Germany could obviously foresee that he would one day lead a jet-set continental life, so they prepared him by regularly sending over large parcels of exotic confectionary and clothing items not available in Britain. Amongst us more provincial small town kids it was obvious when one of these packages had arrived, as the new boy turned up at school wearing a lime green velour jumper with - what appeared to our uncultured eyes - to be strips of multicoloured carpet attached to the shoulders. It was the universal admiration of this “snazzy” jumper in the schoolyard that gave him the nickname he still loves so much at the age of 31. Whilst the other kids made do with Mars Bars he was enjoying the unheard of delights of imported Kinder Surprise chocolate eggs.

This early exposure to sophisticated continental style has served him well over the last ten years he has spent living and working in Germany. However it has been known to cause some problems on his return visits to England during this time.

For example, he appears somewhat conspicuous when he turns up at a typical English pub - where most of the regulars are clad in shellsuits - wearing a white silk scarf, floor length Hugo Boss lambswool trenchcoat and hand-stitched Italian patent leather shoes.

I have felt unable to return to a local pub in North London since one of C.s visits when he strode to the bar and ordered a caipirinha – that’s a cocktail for those who may not know - whilst graphically demonstrating to the barman how the ice and lime should be crushed in preparation. The barman responded with a similar hand action of his own…

So – as C. prepares to make his return to the UK to be with his new wife – it is time for us to do as his thoughtful German relations did all those years ago and present him with a survival parcel for his re-integration to British life and in particular to life in the North.

[present the parcel – give Snaz Newcastle Brown, lard, clothes catalogue and whippet mag]

Returning to the story - the Brackens soon integrated into the Welwyn social scene and we three became close friends. However we were shortly to go our separate ways when it was time to move on to senior school – C. heading to Holy Trinity School, us to Monks Walk. At his new school, he was the star pupil and top of the year in all subjects, however he soon saw the futility of trying to lead an independent life and was transferred to Monks Walk school in the 2nd year. There he continued to be a model pupil – or as it was called at the time “a swot” – gaining his first O level at the record-breaking age of 13, winning a regional award for scientific excellence and starring in the school and county orchestras as a cellist.

These achievements obviously gained our complete respect and admiration and we were not at all worried by his goodie-2 shoes image, his aversion to girls and alcohol and his general lack of interest in behaving like a normal teenager. We were however concerned at the toll this single-minded dedication to excellence was taking on his legendary stress levels. In fact, we thought we would try to help him relax during the particularly stressful weeks leading up to our A levels with a well-intentioned April Fools joke.

Our deputy head of 6th - Mr Falder - was known for the rickety antique typewriter he used for all correspondence. A friend of ours – Pete - happened to have a very similar typewriter. So a letter landed on the Bracken’s doormat apparently signed by Mr Falder urgently reporting that a terrible clash had occurred with the exam scheduling and that C. would not be able to sit one of his subjects that year. With the passing years, C. Liane and Barry can now (we hope) laugh off that happy weekend they spent with the school supervisor pouring through the school files trying to get to the bottom of that elusive crisis.

We were particularly proud of the forgery of Mr Falder’s signature – so C. you may wish to check your marriage certificate to see if Mr Falder was in fact your witness today...

Surprisingly this little joke didn’t seem to help his stress levels, and his highly-strung condition would often manifest itself through what can best be described as windy outbursts not unlike the baaing of a sheep. This unfortunately did nothing for his chances with the fairer sex, and he had to admire from afar the charms of a certain fellow Monks Walk student by the name of Louise. Louise was naturally only interested in dating real men in those days – we’re not sure what has changed in the intervening years – C. or Louise’s tastes?

Returning to our theme of the two sides of C.A.B: once he was freed from our responsible guidance, another side of him became apparent when he went away to study chemical engineering at the University of Surrey in Guildford. Soon the recently anti-smoking teetotaller virginal Christian had become “Chris” and was apparently carrying on like Oliver Reed in his prime. We would like to recognise the role played in this transition by a fellow guest today Mark Bourner – who as C.s close companion at Surrey achieved more with his young charge in a term than we had managed in the previous decade.


Nonetheless this wild side didn’t take complete hold – when returning home during holidays this wolf in sheep’s clothing still behaved like the angel of old. Most of all, it had to be kept secret from C.s parents and indeed any of their friends and acquaintances that he now smoked like a chimney. He went to such lengths to hide this fact that he would remove his cigarette packet from his coat pocket and hide it in a flower bed in case anyone heard the rattling sound, identified his guilty secret and reported back to Liane and Barry. This extreme behaviour may have been motivated by a fear that Liane would claim back the £100 she had recently handed over to Christian for their long-standing pact that he would not smoke before the age of 20 (a bet he claims to have won honestly…).

Enjoying this more balanced lifestyle, he graduated from Surrey with a respectable degree and a few extra pounds around the waist. Having previously spent an enjoyable year on an industrial placement in Germany, he successfully applied for another post in the country working for Sigma Aldridge in Steinheim - a village set in the beautiful countryside of south Germany. Soon he was settled into an apartment facing directly onto the chemical warehouse that he worked in, delightfully situated on a much sought-after industrial estate. After 3 years he came to his senses and decided it was time to move on to a new apartment where he would be able to look out of his window without seeing the warehouse. He achieved this by actually moving into the warehouse compound itself and spent a further 2 years living inside. When he was given leave to go out of an evening, he could only get home if the security guard was still awake to open the gates. Eventually he transferred to a post with Sigma Aldridge in Munich and his 5 years in Steinheim came to an end - as C. well knows for more than one reason, 5 years is a long time.

As well as the fabulous apartment, C. was also the envy of Steinheim for the Mazda 323 he had acquired at a less than competitive price in his first naïve days in Germany – when he thought it wise to go shopping for a 2nd hand car on a dark night with low visibility. It wasn’t until the light of day that he realised previous generations of boy-racer owners had customised the sluggish family car into a sluggish family car with low-slung suspension and extra wide wheels. This made accepting a lift a less than comfortable experience, particularly when heading home after a trip to a nearby bar down the side of the hill via a farmer’s field in the middle of the night. Another wise investment made in his first month’s employment was an extravagant turquoise leather sofa that added to the substantial student debt he was already struggling under.


Every summer C. returns to Welwyn for the annual Bracken garden party in celebration of his and Liane’s birthdays in July. Ever the concerned mother, Liane would often use this social occasion to invite a selection of eligible young ladies along in the hope that one would succumb to C.s charms, aided by a combination of Barry’s generous supply of fine wine and the fading evening light.

Liane and Barry had even installed a grand wooden summer house at the far end of their garden providing a suitably discreet and romantic location for their son’s potential courting, but it was all to no avail.

July 14th 2001 will go down as a defining date in C.s life. It was the day of the summer party and his 30th birthday and also the day he had vowed to give up smoking after over 10 years. As an old school friend, Louise had been invited to the party and had made the long journey down from Durham to attend. It was on that momentous day that - having known each other since they were teenagers - their romance suddenly sparked into life in the shadow of the wooden love shack. After years of neglect, it seemed the erection at the end of the garden might fulfill its purpose.

And the rest as they say is history… OR IS IT?

When the registrar asked earlier today whether anyone knew of any lawful reason why this delightful couple should not be married, we must confess that some doubts did flicker through our minds. And perhaps only the bride herself will be able to clear up a little gender confusion in our final example of the two sides to C.A.B. We call this section “herr oder frau?”

When the groom arrived at his new junior school at the age of 9, the teacher indistinctly introduced the class to a big-haired child called Christian.. or was it Christine? Being too polite to enquire further, we went home from school that day genuinely wondering whether the new arrival was a boy or a girl.


As he grew older there was a filling out of the hips and backside that the unkind could describe as somewhat feminine. We have the photographic evidence to confirm that C. has on an at least one occasion worn Liane’s tights in public, causing some observers to exclaim that they looked just like sisters.

Suspicion only began to rise however on visiting his apartment:
- The extensive video collection of sentimental romantic comedies
- The even larger vanity cabinet, heaving with expensive toiletries of all descriptions
- The bedroom drawer full of what appear to be women’s briefs
As Loyd Grossman might ask, “WHO LIVES IN A HOUSE LIKE THIS?”

[give Snaz pair of boxer shorts]

Staying as overnight guests though made us truly confused. C. disappeared into the bathroom to prepare for bed. Half an hour passed, then an hour. What was he doing in there? He eventually emerged and bade us goodnight wearing a nightdress. Having waited patiently to use the bathroom to answer the call of nature, we found the toilet seat stuck permanently in the lowered position. As you can see now, whilst we are happy to stand to perform our duties, it seems that some find it preferable to be seated.

The final perplexing piece of evidence we will present today occurred only 2 weeks ago on C.s stag night at the Oktoberfest in Munich when he and a red-blooded gentleman from the Bavarian chapter of the leather and rubber society became intimately acquainted over a beer. Again for those not of a faint heart, photographic evidence of this liaison is available.

Whatever you may say of the different sides to C. and his unusual tastes – whether it be his jumpers or his obsession with pickled onion monster munch crisps – we can all agree there is no doubt that he has shown exemplary taste in taking Louise to be his bride. They have coped incredibly well in maintaining their relationship whilst based in different countries and we wish C. a swift return to England so that they can set up home together properly. It is clear that they are head over heels in love with each other - embarassingly clear in fact during their public displays of affection… so thank goodness they’re not going away on honeymoon…

We would now like to propose a toast:

THE END!!!!