Phil W. Bayles

Or: How I Learned My Brother Has Amazing Comedic Timing.

This weekend, I watched my brother get married, and I had the privilege of being his best man. Below is a transcript of the toast I gave at the reception. It has been edited for clarity and sobriety.

[The photo above isn’t from my brother’s wedding; it’s from my own wedding six years ago, where he made a wonderful best man speech.]

It’s a real honour to be here today as Tom’s best man, because it feels like I’ve known him for my entire life. We were housemates for 18 years. We even shared a womb for the first nine months, but it was extremely cramped, so we nipped that in the bud pretty quickly.

In case anyone here today didn’t already know, Tom is my twin brother. Don’t worry if you didn’t know that; people often don’t realise we’re related. In fact, on one occasion, a classmate tried to introduce me to him. A fellow parent once asked my mum at a school play: “Are they both identical?” Without missing a beat, Mum replied: “No, just Tom.”

She’s actually a big part of the reason we’re here today. Eight years ago, when Lizzie and I were housemates in South London, my parents came to visit for a weekend. We were eating together in the kitchen when Lizzie appeared and introduced herself. She clearly made a good impression, because after not-at-all-subtly enquiring into Lizzie’s relationship status, my mother quickly said “Well, I’ve got another son if you’re interested! And he’s training to be a doctor!”

We had a good laugh about that later on. I remember saying: “God, wouldn’t it be funny if my brother ended up dating my housemate?”

[At this point, my brother interjected by shouting “Joke’s on you, Phil!” and completely ruining my punchline. In his defence, it was extremely funny.]

I don’t mind admitting that, in the beginning, Tom and Lizzie seemed like an odd pairing. As a doctor and a dramaturg, they couldn’t be more different: left brain and right brain. Tom’s always been a neat freak who had to have everything in its proper place, while Lizzie’s philosophy is one of… let’s say ‘organised chaos.’ She’s the only person I know who could use every pot and in the kitchen just to boil an egg. Lizzie’s been immersed in the creative arts from a young age; Tom fell asleep during his English GCSE and only agreed to go to the Museum of Modern Art in New York because there was free WiFi in the building.

But as I’ve watched them together over the last eight years, I’ve come to realise that both of their callings — medicine and writing — require the same, essential ingredient: empathy. You can’t take care of the ill and infirm or write believable three-dimensional characters unless you can show empathy for others.

As luck would have it, that’s also the key to a successful marriage; finding someone who can truly understand you, even if you don’t always understand yourself. Fortunately, Tom and Lizzie are two of the most empathetic people I know.

Now, as I’ve already said, Tom and I are twins, but he always introduces me as his “little brother”. There are only four minutes between us, but those four minutes are very important to him. Still, given that I’ve been married for nearly six years now, I felt I should finish my speech by giving some big-brotherly advice to the newlyweds. I searched for ages for some nugget of wisdom — “don’t let the sun set on an argument”, “happy spouse, happy house,” all that nonsense — but it’s all terribly cliché, and Lizzie will tell you that a good writer avoids clichés like the plague.

But in the end, it was my wonderful wife Rachel who inspired me with something she told me when we got married: “I choose you every day.”

You’re not the same people who I spotted snogging in the corner of our kitchen eight years ago. Eight years from now, you’ll be completely different people again. But your empathy and your love for each other has only made you stronger and better. And I can’t wait to see the people who you both become as you continue to choose each other every day going forward.

Lizzie — thank you for making my brother so happy. I’d say “welcome to the family”, but you’ve been family for a long time now. Today we’re just making it official.

Tom — standing here as your best man means more to me than I can say. I may have been a shit to you when we were growing up, but you’re the best brother I could ask for, and I love you very much.

Here’s to Tom and Lizzie, everybody.