It only takes a camera to change her mind

Remember, remember
Tomorrow's September...

..and that's all I can think of when it comes to coming up with a variation on the ol' Gunpowder plot rhyme. But anyway, here I am in the last few hours of August, which means in a few short hours I'll be entering the month in which I get married..

Blimey.

Actually, I really cannot wait for the big day to arrive, with one small minor reservation..

..the photographer..

On Sunday we met up with our wedding photographer again, and I began to realise just how possessed and driven these men are. I guess from some people's point-of-view this is what they want in the person who will be taking the photographs of their big day, but he has indicated that he wants to use the whole hour and forty minutes between the service and the grub to take photos..

Fair enough, thought I..

..and then it was made clear that I'd have to be in the majority of them on account of me being the groom and all that.

What.. the.. fuck..?

Now I hate having my photograph taken at the best of times (ask anyone who knows me), but having my picture take for one hundred minutes? He has got to be taking the piss. How can anyone physically smile for that long? Surely by the end it will begin to look like a grimace (which is definitely not the look too be going for).

So how am I supposed to get through this (I only have the one hip flask, and it only holds so much brandy)? Anyone got a clothes hanger that I can insert into my mouth for that perma-smile this sadist of a photographer thinks I can maintain for the best part of two fucking hours..??

Answers on a postcard (or suggestions in a comment) please

Ta