You're sick of looking at napkins, are losing sleep over the price of peonies and have just had a shirty email from your sister about your choice of bridesmaid dress... There is another way. Elopement! Just make sure it's dramatic.
Your escape. Shinning down a rope of knotted-together sheets in the dead of night would be a thrilling way to get your elopement off to a flying start. A rope ladder will also work. Yes, this might feel unnecessary if you already live with your future spouse in a ground-floor flat, but we're trying to build a narrative here. Play along.
The getaway vehicle. Ideally, your husband-to-be would collect you on a horse, even though it's hard to break into a speedy canter on the King's Road or round that complicated one-way bit in Notting Hill, so tell him you'll settle for a helicopter. That way you can press your face to the glass and whisper, 'One day, I hope you'll understand,' as you fly over your parents' house
The venue. Gretna Green has historic appeal, obviously, as the wedding Mecca of defiant teenagers over the centuries. Like the penniless Earl of Westmoreland and banking heiress Sarah Anne Child, chased along the way by her furious father, who even managed to shoot one of the horses off their carriage. That's more like it. So much more exciting than Farm Street church and a Peter Jones wedding list.
It's hard to resist the idea of Las Vegas for an Elvis-chapel extravaganza. You might go for the Hound Dog package, where 'Elvis' sings you three songs, walks the bride down the aisle and you get a copy of Elvis and Priscilla's wedding certificate as well as your own. Then you can head straight to the slot machines instead of having to worry about not getting off your face before the speeches/making small talk with distant cousins you last met when you were four.
What to wear? Brides - preferably something slutty and short to celebrate not having to please your mother in a dress she basically chose or wear the skull-crushing family tiara. Grooms should wear what they're told to wear. Get used to it. It's called MARRIAGE.
Photographs. Post a selfie on Instagram with the caption 'Knot tied', preferably doing something roguish like smoking fags or spraying each other in the face with champagne.
Announcements. Put a notice in The Times to say you got married in a 'private ceremony'. It stops you looking like you got drunk and did it by accident.
Throw a big party to celebrate. You will need to appease your cheated, furious goddaughters (who always assumed they'd be your bridesmaids), disappointed friends and outraged siblings. You'll be amazed what a free dinner and a non-stop supply of Moët can do to build bridges. Mysteriously vanish before the end without telling anyone. It's important to stay on brand.
