And I went to his wedding to appeal it.
With a man on my arm as evidence.
And the actual evidence — eleven years of my own handwriting, four box files of it, a legal directorship dated 2014 and a signature of mine on a declaration that was not true —
was sitting in a car boot forty feet away in a car park.
Because a friend had been driving round with it for eleven weeks, waiting for a moment in which I could not wave him off.
It has been eleven weeks since that wedding.
They are married.
I want that said plainly, because four people have asked me and all four of them clearly wanted the other answer.
Nothing stopped. Nothing was called off. Ramsey put the lid back on that box, put it under the table, and did four more hours of his own wedding with his face completely fixed.
