You can ring my be-e-e-e-ell, ring my bell

One more item crossed off the list, when Best Beloved and I went to register our intent to marry. Production of passports, utility bills etc. proved our identities; gruelling questions like "do you know her postcode" (I don't, but can tell you how to get there) served to prove that we had a passing acquaintance and weren't doing this frivolously, for convenience or whatever.

This sign was in the waiting room, though I'm not sure what the registrar's own matrimonial intentions have to do with anything.