I am deserting you again next week thanks to a packed schedule which sees me celebrating my mum's birthday and acting as best woman to one of my oldest friends as he ties the knot.

There was some talk that I should be referred to as Maid of Honour rather than best woman, but frankly I am not giving up such a brilliant and accurate title in order to be renamed something that suggests I'm a spinster on the shelf and, worse, have unquestionably high morals.

On the plus side, I understand that I will have my choice of the bridesmaids, be duty-bound to insert a hilarious gag into my speech that causes a newly-wed rift that will ruin the wedding night and be so drunk by 7pm that I willingly take to the dance floor when the DJ plays Lady in Red to perform a hauntingly beautiful solo routine.

In some words stolen from Hugh Grant in Four Weddings and a Funeral, I am, as ever, in bewildered awe of anyone who makes the kind of commitment that David and Nicola will make on Friday and equally bewildered that they'd entrust me to make a speech in front of their gathered loved ones.

I shall do my utmost not to swear, call anyone a pleb or suggest any of the bridesmaids have flat hair but I can't promise not to think I'm funnier than I actually am. Especially if the speech comes after 7pm.

As for my mother, another birthday, another year of unsurpassed awesomeness – she taught me all the swear words I know and for this I give daily thanks.

See you in a fortnight.