Things seem to run to a different schedule in China, they really do.

I'm sitting in a photographer's studio, while my Chinese fiance, Ellen, is having her hair and make up done for our wedding photos.

You'll note that I say "fiance", and not "wife" -- we don't get hitched until May.

But we're having the photos taken now, because they'll look nice to show her relatives during the Spring Festival. I am assured this is a perfectly natural thing to do and I shouldn't worry about anything.

Color me confused, but I don't think my parents did things this way ... Their photos show them on the church steps, after they'd tied the knot, surrounded by family and friends.

Their photos aren't a series of carefully choreographed fantasies played out like some elaborate romantic dream.

Or is that nightmare? Over the course of the morning, I'm dressed as an Austrian prince, a Chinese emperor, and at one point I pose with a cello.

And I don't think the Emperor suffered from a problem with choosing his wardrobe. A clap of his hands, and robes that fitted would have been immediately produced, tailored just for him.

I am built differently to the average Chinese groom. None of the pants will pull up my legs. There's only one shirt that fits me, and even then, only if I stop breathing.

A frantic wardrobe assistant lets the seams out with a frenzy of scissors, pins and sighs.

I'm poked, prodded and manhandled into hundreds of different poses, none of which seem quite right to the photographer. My fiance, on the other hand, just glides into the studio, stands in front of the background, and he snaps away quite happily.

I'm also told that I'll be retouched in Photoshop, which just fills me with delight. I always thought photographs were meant to be an accurate depiction of events, but it seems that just isn't romantic.

The other fun thing is that I am shorter than my fiance. This doesn't bother me, but it is annoying the photographer no end. A step is produced from some dark recess of the studio, and I have been teetering on it ever since. What's wrong with being short? I've been short all my life, and to start showing up as tall in photographs is definitely going to worry my parents - they're short, too!

Isn't it bad luck for the groom to see the bride in a wedding dress before the Big Day? If that's the case, I'm going to suffer pretty badly, as she's been in and out of half a dozen already.

I never knew these things came in colors other than white, but she's pretty much gone through the spectrum. I've been dressed to match some of them, most notably in a lilac suit - possibly recently used by the Mayor of Toytown.

Background rolls crash down behind me, and I keep falling out of ill-fitting shoes. Endless cups of hot water are pressed into my hand, as I'm led back and forth across the studio floor for what seems like days.

Despite all that, I'm remaining calm.

Tantrums could have been had, costumes flung, teeth gnashed and general chaos could have reigned supreme.

I console myself with this one, simple thought: After all this mucking around, all these changes and poses, the actual wedding should go smoothly ... shouldn't it?