Don't Tell The Groom!

I was warned by a rather disdainful fiancé not to watch it and like the stubborn little bint that I am, I went ahead and watched it regardless.  I am, of course, referring to “Don’t Tell The Bride.”  That hour long sexist extravaganza, in which a bratty bride to be hands over the responsibility of organising her dream wedding to her feckless but ultimately well meaning groom.  You don’t have to be Mystic Meg to predict the premise: woman expresses her desire for a Disney style wedding, man organises a wedding that involves a quick job at the local Maccy Dees (whilst they all dress in tracksuits and prance down the aisle to dub step), bride bursts into tears.  It is a cheap, no fail formula.  Well, I say cheap.  The programme makers have to fork out 12K for the featured wedding. Indeed, why else would somebody volunteer to make a complete tit of themselves on national TV?  I say no fail because it seems to encapsulate all that the British public want from their TV programming: morons, weddings, gender stereotypes and, if you’re really lucky, a few colossal tantrums.

It turns out that the fiancé was right; I hated the whole bloody programme and got extremely angry.  I mean, come on.  Thousands of people the world over are starving.  Many people in this country are struggling to heat their homes due to rising fuel costs.  Animals throughout the world are suffering due to mistreatment and neglect.  Yet, somehow these spoilt brats (sorry but I cannot think of a term that is more apt) seem to feel that her husband to be picking the wrong colour wedding dress or incorrectly shaped invites warrants her throwing a massive wobbly.  Oh Christ alive!  One phrase springs to mind and that’s GROW UP.  Oh and get over yourself.

Then there’s the sexism.  The whole thing just backs up the cultural stereotypes that are so pervasive in the portrayal of relationships.  You know the stereotypes I mean: the woman puts everything into maintaining a healthy relationship whilst the man sits in an armchair, slurping beer, burping, belching, watching football and picking his nose.  Hmmmfff.  This programme takes these stereotypes and shoves them into a very specific, high pressured situation.  I.e. wedding planning.  The one day that most women are socialised and manipulated into dominating and having as their day.  The day that would normally be meticulously planned by bride and mother of the bride (or so I’m told).  Only this time it is down to the simpleton groom and his clan of apelike peers.  Rather predictably, they ALWAYS manage to organise something that is the exact opposite to the dream wedding that has been dreamed up by their bride to be.  Shock horror.  A man actually getting control of a day that, when you think about it in a fair and even handed way, is half his day anyway.  So what if he wants to serve kebabs at his own wedding?  So what if he’d rather arrive at the registry office on the back of a tractor instead of a Rolls Royce?  I’m actually on the side of men everywhere here. 

We talk about equality and how we want everyone to have an equal say in everything, a sentiment that I wholeheartedly agree with.  Yet, it seems that when it comes to wedding planning a lot of girlies seem to cringe at the thought of letting the male half of the partnership anywhere near it.  Why?  What are you all afraid of?  More sense being injected into the proceedings?  A lower credit card bill?  Offending your mother?  Oh dear God. 

Naturally, it is all the opposite way around in our case.  We have agreed that, in order to comply with health and safety and common decency, he should organise everything and I should not be let anywhere near anything.  This decreases the possibility of embarrassment and would be better all round.