How to Write a Best Man Speech — The No-Panic Guide

A practical, honest guide for anyone who's been asked and immediately started panicking.

You've Been Asked. Don't Panic.

Your best mate has asked you to be his best man. You've said yes, felt the warm glow of being chosen, and then about thirty seconds later the cold dread sets in: you've got to stand up in front of a room full of strangers and be funny, charming, and emotional — ideally without crying, swearing, or going completely blank.

Deep breath. You've been asked because you know the groom better than almost anyone in that room. That's genuinely all you need. You don't need to be a comedian. You don't need to memorise a fifteen-minute monologue. You need to stand up, tell a couple of good stories, make people laugh, make people feel something, and raise a glass. That's the whole job.

What Your Speech Actually Needs to Do

Before you write a single word, understand the four jobs of a best man speech. Nail these four things and you've smashed it, regardless of how polished your delivery is.

—Roast the groom (with love). The bit everyone's waiting for. The embarrassing story, the gentle dig, the reminder that he once got lost in a Tesco car park for forty minutes. But the roast only works if the room can feel that you love the bloke. It's affectionate mockery, not a character assassination. If the groom is laughing, you're doing it right. If the groom's mum looks uncomfortable, you've gone too far.
—Praise the bride (or partner). The bit people forget, and it separates a good speech from a great one. Say something genuine about the partner. Not “she's obviously way too good for him” — everyone says that. Say something specific. How they've changed him for the better. A moment you saw them together and thought “yeah, this one's different.” The partner's family are in that room too, and this is the moment you win them over.
—Thank the guests. Quick acknowledgement — thanks for coming, thanks to the parents for putting this all together (and probably paying for most of it), thanks to the bridesmaids for keeping the bride sane. Thirty seconds. Shows class and the parents will remember it.
—Make the room feel love for the couple. The real job. When you sit down, every person in that room should feel warmth toward the bride and groom. Laughter, a few happy tears, and people buying you pints at the bar afterwards. That's a job well done.

The Structure That Works Every Time

A battle-tested structure that works because it builds — light and funny at the start, warm and genuine at the end.

1. The Opening (30 seconds)

Grab the room. You've got about ten seconds before people start checking their phones. Options: a self-deprecating one-liner, a fake-out, or address the nerves directly. Don't open with “for those of you who don't know me” and then give your life story. Nobody cares about your CV. Get in, get a laugh, move on.

2. How You Know the Groom (1 minute)

Brief context. How you met, how long you've been mates, what your friendship is built on. This grounds the room.

3. The Roast — Stories About the Groom (2–3 minutes)

The main event. One or two good stories, maximum. Quality over quantity.

What makes a good story: it reveals character, the room can picture it, it's funny without being cruel, he'd tell it himself after three pints.

What makes a bad story: anything involving ex-partners, stories that only make sense if you were there, anything illegal or involving substances, anything that would make his nan leave the room.

4. Enter the Partner (1–2 minutes)

The turn. You've been taking the mick, now bring the warmth. Talk about when you first noticed the groom was different. Be specific: “I knew it was serious when he voluntarily went to a garden centre on a Saturday morning. The man who once ate cereal for dinner seven nights running was browsing ornamental grasses. That's love.”

Then say something directly about the partner. Not generic. Something you actually mean.

5. The Genuine Bit (30 seconds – 1 minute)

Drop the jokes. Just for a moment. Say something real about your mate. “Underneath all the stick I've given him today, he is genuinely one of the best people I know.” This gives the speech weight. Without it, you've done a comedy set. With it, you've done a best man speech.

6. The Toast (15 seconds)

Keep it simple. “Ladies and gentlemen, please raise your glasses...” Done. Sit down. Accept the applause. Go to the bar.

Stop chasing people on WhatsApp.

HerdCats sorts the date, the money, and the plan — all in one link. No app to download. No sign-up required for your group.

Create a free event →

The One-Liner Vault

A few reliable gags to steal and adapt. A personalised version is ten times better than the generic line — use these as a starting point, not a script.

Openers

—“It's been an emotional day. Even the cake is in tiers.”
—“I asked the groom how long my speech should be. He said 'as short as possible.' So — to the bride and groom!” (pause) “No? Fine, I'll continue.”
—“They say the best man's speech is the groom's worst five minutes of the day. It's actually his second worst — the first was when he saw how much this all cost.”

On the groom

—“When he asked me to say a few words, I thought — that's about all he knows.”
—“He is kind, thoughtful, generous, handsome... sorry, I'm struggling to read his handwriting.”

On marriage

—“Marriage is a relationship where one person is always right, and the other person is the husband.”

For the Nervous — Crutches That Actually Work

Not everyone is comfortable speaking in front of a hundred people. That's completely normal.

—The photo slideshow. The single best crutch. 10–15 photos of the groom — childhood, school, embarrassing fancy dress. Show them on a screen while you provide commentary. The room watches the screen, not you. The photos get laughs on their own.
—Props. A printed “Groom's School Report”, a fake letter, a “terms and conditions of marriage” scroll. Props give you something to do with your hands, give the room something to focus on, and buy you time between lines.
—Cue cards, not a script. Bullet points on small cards, not your entire speech word-for-word. Five cards, five bullet points each, one per section.
—The mate in the crowd. Pick one person you're comfortable with and talk to them for the first thirty seconds. Just make eye contact, get through the opening, settle your nerves. Nobody will notice.
—Practice out loud. Not in your head. Out loud. In your bedroom, in the shower, in the car. The first time you say your speech should not be in front of a hundred people.

Timing — How Long Should It Be?

Five to seven minutes. Under five feels like you couldn't be bothered. Over seven and you're losing the room. Six minutes is the sweet spot — roughly 800–900 words at a natural pace with pauses for laughs.

What the Stinkers Get Wrong

We've all sat through a bad best man speech. Here's what they have in common:

—Too long. Fifteen minutes is not impressive, it's inconsiderate. Every minute after seven you're borrowing from the room's goodwill.
—Too drunk. One drink to settle the nerves is fine. More than that and your timing is gone, your volume control is gone, and you'll say something you'll regret.
—Too many in-jokes. Stories that require ten minutes of backstory to make sense. If the whole room isn't laughing, the story isn't right for the speech.
—Forgot the partner. The room notices. The partner notices. Their family definitely notices. Don't skip this part.
—Went too far with the roast. The groom's parents are in the room. His new in-laws are in the room. His colleagues might be in the room. There's a line, and crossing it is not a good look.
—Read it word-for-word from a phone. No eye contact, no connection, no room for improvised reactions. Use cue cards and know your material well enough to look up.

The Day Itself — Practical Stuff Nobody Tells You

Eat something. Nerves on an empty stomach are much worse. Have a glass of water on the table — dry mouth mid-speech is a genuine problem. Stand up rather than sitting; it projects your voice and signals to the room that something important is happening.

Pause after laughs. Beginners rush through because silence feels scary, but silence after a laugh is the joke landing. Let it land. If a joke falls flat, have a line ready: “that went better in rehearsal.” It usually gets a laugh on its own.

Remember: every person in that room wants you to do well. The crowd is with you from the moment you stand up. They're not waiting for you to fail — they're hoping you'll nail it.

Speech Sorted? Now Sort the Stag Do.

The speech gets all the attention, but the best man's other job is arguably bigger: organising the stag do. Getting 12 lads to agree on a date, commit to a plan, actually pay, and then turn up — that's project management for people who don't want to be project managed.

HerdCats takes your group from “shall we do something?” to “everyone's paid, here's the itinerary” — with one shareable link. No app downloads, no sign-ups for the lads. Drop the link in WhatsApp, everyone picks their dates, you lock the best one, costs are split automatically, and payments are tracked so you're never chasing anyone.