Back from Prague. Finally. Man, what a crazy five days. Victoria went mental when I got back as she thought we were only going for two nights. In my defence, I didn't have a clue – it was a surprise stag – but this kind of logic never impresses chicks, especially hormonal, pre-marital ones.
She wants to know everything that happened, but I obviously gave her a heavily edited version – what happened in Prague stays in Prague (including, it seems, a guy called Malik who was arrested after getting smashed on the plane out and who we still haven't heard from). I did tell her about the naked car wash, as that was kind of funny, and even she thought it was amazing.
I asked her how her dad would feel about investing in my idea of setting up a chain of them over here in the UK. She did her weird snorting laugh that I used to find so damn sexy but is now a little bit annoying. Her mom does the same thing. It's like a cross between a pig and a horse sound in the middle of a laugh – really weird. This farm animal mix sort of reminds me of parts of the stag that I don't really want to go into too much detail about (save to say that the Cooperman has now seen "shows" that make the stuff you see on the Mexican border look like pre-school entertainment). I remember driving down to Tijuana with a couple of guys from Berkeley one spring break and seeing the famous "donkey show" while totally wasted on cheap margaritas... happy days... but it's got nothing on Prague.
The wedding is now looming and Victoria is really getting into the organisation. She saw a photo of Liz Hurley's poor kid going off to a wedding dressed like a Victorian ponce and she now wants H-F to have the same sort of baby outfit. Trinny got very excited and has been round measuring up and trying to show me what I "should" be wearing – some shiny shit from Boateng. To avoid this awful option, I head off to top people's tailor Richard James in Savile Row. I'm splashing out on a bespoke suit – this means that the thing is totally made to your wishes, where you want the pockets, what cut, colour etc. and it fits like Michael Jackson's glove up a...
The only problem is that the whole procedure takes quite a long time and involves a little too much of skinny young men measuring my inside leg and getting a tad too tactile for my tastes. I put up with it all, though, because their suits rock and I'm going to look like three million dollars on the big day. I walked in on what passed for a "fitting" for the Himmlers (my in-laws). I had to go to the window and pretend I was having a sneezing fit to hide my laughter.
Mrs Himmler, already a little tipsy at 10 in the morning, was trying to hold in her ample stomach while modelling a large, gaudy marquee in the mirror. Mr Himmler, meanwhile, was losing a battle to squeeze into his morning suit. Apparently it was the one he was married in, and he took great pride in the fact that he could still fit into it. The problem was, he couldn't. Something eventually snapped around the waist and he was forced to abandon the mission. Hilarious. I opened the window and leant out, laughing my ass off.
Back in London I speak to Hugh Grant and he confirms that he's coming to the wedding – that is totally cool. I tell him about the Liz Hurley costume inspiration and he groans and then laughs – Hugh is a real dude and the guys coming over from the States for the wedding are going to be blown away that he's there. I've also organised another really cool surprise for the big day. Victoria and I first met at a barbecue in Santa Monica at Minnie Driver's place. I've got Minnie to agree to come and sing at the wedding; she's been touring her new album round Europe and she's phenomenal – the new Joni Mitchell. Victoria is going to go mental when she finds out. (I'm not a totally awful guy after all. Hooray for me!!!)
A lot of Indy readers have been emailing me and the paper to find out where they can send presents to Victoria and me for the wedding. We do have a wedding list but that is for personal friends. (Not that you, my beloved readers, are not close, personal friends but... you know what I mean.) So, I thought what would be nice, if anyone wants to do something for us, is send a cheque to the Indy made out to Cooper Brown. I will make sure that we buy something really nice with the total.
Obviously it will cause a little bit of friction between Victoria and me. She will want us to buy some furniture or something useful for the new place, whereas I will be more keen to get something "fun" like a car for her or a jukebox or a big holiday – obviously, this all depends on how much you donate. I'm going to wait and see and then make a decision. If you have a preference then feel free to write down what you'd like to be done with it. This is cool... I feel we're all getting a lot closer. Coop Out.Reuse content