Wedding speech examples that actually work — annotated.

"Good afternoon, everyone. Some of you have travelled a long way to be here, and on behalf of Jane and I — thank you. Today wouldn't be today without you.

When Emma was eleven, she set up a school newspaper. The first edition had three articles, all written by her, all under different names. The headline was "Local Girl Starts Newspaper." That's the Emma you all know — the one who decides something, and then makes it true.

When she brought James home for the first time, he asked Jane about her garden and listened to the answer for twenty minutes. That was the day I knew. To James, and to the Edwards family — welcome. You're family now.

The advice I'd give you is the only advice that's ever worked for Jane and me: be on the same team. Argue badly, apologise quickly. Please raise your glasses — to Emma and James."

"Thank you all for being here. To everyone who travelled, who took time off, who got dressed up on a Saturday — we see you. We're grateful.

Mum and Dad — for everything, but mostly for never once asking me when. Anna's parents — thank you for raising the person I'm marrying. Tom, my best man — I'll know what you think of me in about ten minutes.

And Anna. The thing about Anna is that she writes the week on a whiteboard every Sunday night. I used to find it stressful. Then I noticed I was sleeping better. That's the bit nobody sees — the small, daily way she's quietly making me a better version of myself, one Sunday at a time.

I promise to keep noticing. I promise to keep listening. And I promise — for the rest of my life — to keep choosing you. Please raise your glasses to my wife, Anna."

"I've been dreading this speech for nine months. Then I realised — most of you are here for the free bar, not me. So thank you for that.

When I met Tom at university, he was wearing his dad's suit jacket and trying to convince a girl he'd been in a band. He hadn't. He still hasn't. But somehow it worked — because the thing about Tom is that he believes what he's saying, right up until you remind him it's not true.

Before he met Anna, Tom would rearrange his weekend around a five-a-side game. Now he rearranges it around her. He told me once, on a stag-do in Lisbon, that she made him want to be on time for things. From Tom, that's a love letter.

Please raise your glasses. To Tom and Anna."

"The first time I met Anna, she was eating cereal out of a pint glass at 2am, convinced she'd had a great idea. She'd written it down on the back of a receipt. The receipt said: "remember this."

That's still her — the one who notices the moment something matters, and tries to hold onto it. When we were nineteen, she spent her entire student loan on a leather jacket because, she said, "you only meet your future self once." She still wears it. She's still right.

The first time I met Tom, Anna was teasing him about his coffee order in a way that only people who actually love each other can do. He laughed at himself before she'd finished the sentence. I went home that night and texted my husband: she's found her person.

To Anna and Tom."

Notice what's not in any of them: long lists of names, "for those who don't know me," recycled jokes from the internet, "she's my best friend," "I never thought this day would come," "without further ado."

Notice what is in all of them: one or two specific images. A real moment. A short, clean toast. Under 1,000 words. People talking like themselves.

That's the whole job. Find your real moments, write them simply, cut everything else.