Potential sideline for wedding planners (whose job presumably could be outsourced to AI based on a series of prompts, with potentially comedic consequences):

Booking inept cyclists to ride around the reception, crashing into cakestands to ensure an atmosphere of lighthearted gaiety even when Uncle Marmaduke has a few too many, starts groping the bridesmaids and singing My Way with a an upturned champagne bottle as an improvised microphone. Again.