- Nicola Meighan
- 18 August 2010
This article is from 2010
A disconnected dispatch about nuptials
Affable Yorkshire stand-up Tom Wrigglesworth might have won fans and critical praise for last year’s Open Return Letter to Richard Branson, but he fails to gain more than a few polite laughs for his latest chronicle, Nightmare Dream Wedding. Based around the tiresome and implausible tale of Wrigglesworth’s marriage to his long-suffering fiancée, Lulu, (cue endless gender stereotypes), the story contrives to join the dots between true love, Jeremy Kyle, bird-shit, oxygen tanks, Shakin’ Stevens and involuntary arson, but it struggles to locate any momentum, or much of a point.
The characters in Wrigglesworth’s dispatch are similarly unconvincing: he’s gratingly condescending when describing his ‘special needs’ friend, May, who he meets at a TV show; and he’s similarly patronising towards the barely sketched-out Fatima, whose burqa offers Wrigglesworth no end of excuses for ‘friendly’ asides. It’s not apparent whether these figures are designed to incite humour, sympathy, empathy, or even a semblance of narrative tension, but unfortunately – as with the rest of this account – we’re too disconnected to care.
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