John Watson. My friend, John Watson. John. When John first broached the subject of being best man, I was confused. When I finally understood, I expressed to him that I was both flattered and surprised. I nonetheless promised that I do my very best to accomplish a task which was, for me, as demanding and difficult as any I have ever contemplated. Additionally, I thanked him for the trust he placed in me and indicated that I was, in some ways, very close to being moved by it. It later transpired that I had said none of this out loud. The point I’m trying to make is that I am the most unpleasant, rude, ignorant and all-around obnoxious asshole that anyone could possibly have the misfortune to meet. I am dismissive of the virtuous, unaware of the beautiful and uncomprehending in the face of the happy. So if I didn’t understand I was being asked to be best man, it is because I never expected to be anyone’s best friend. Certainly not the best friend of the bravest and kindest and wisest human being that I have ever had the good fortune of knowing. And I know that I speak for Mary as well when I say we will never let you down, and we have a lifetime ahead to prove that.