One is pleased that, today, one becomes the longest serving queen on this website. I am aware that my long years of being driven around in posh cars from one palace to another has been an honour and a privilege for you. I put my extreme longevity down to never having had to do a hard days work and lots of nice dinners.
To celebrate this auspicious occasion I have formally opened the new coffee tuk-tuk at Salfords Station, the Third South Park Sea Scouts sailed their inflatable all the way across Earlswood Lower Lake and the Parish Council held a special session to do loads of sycophantic bum-kissing.
May Gord Bliss You Awl.
Oh, dear lord, look what the cat dragged in!
“Lord” Jeffrey Archer has said that anyone who opposes the use of public money for the wedding of the decade has a “curmudgeonly world view“.
What a wordsmith he is! Actually, I remember him more as a convicted perjuror and scribbler of airport fiction. I tried one of his books once – worst ten minutes of my life, and I’ve had root canal treatments!
“Who are this grumpy, envious lot saying ‘I don’t want a royal wedding’? ” he asks.
Well, me for one!
Actually, no, I’m not saying that. I’m saying that I don’t care whether they get married, I just don’t expect to be asked to pay for it. Mr & Mrs Slag over the road didn’t come knocking on my door for a handout when Chardonnay married the bricky, so why should I, as a taxpayer, fork out for Bill and Kate’s bash?
If that makes me grumpy, so be it. If that makes me envious, so be it as well. After all, I come from a class that actually has to work for a sodding living and won’t get a title and a bloody great house from Mumsy. (Remember at this point that properties like Sandringham and Balmoral, which the family regard as “theirs”, were purchased with money from the civil list.)
Archer then goes on to rant about how much money the royals bring in from tourism. True, they do bring in the odd tenner, but I would remind him that people still flock to see Versailles or the Peterhof – and that nearly a century after the Tsar and his family went down to the cellar.
Now, let’s get one thing straight to start with. I couldn’t give a flying corgi who Billy Wales marries, shacks-up-with, shags or significant-otherses. I just hope, for her own sanity’s sake, that Katie fully realises just what she’s marrying into. Certainly Diana didn’t, and never really adjusted to the fact that the palace mafia wanted her only for a very much needed injection of fresh DNA. “Produce an heir, then produce a spare and then get your arse into the background” has generally been the lot of royal wives for centuries. A lifetime in a guilded cage restricted to small talk and smiling for the cameras, while news reporters fawn and grovel over your very bowel movements.
I digress – as usual.
What I DO and WILL object to is the amount of public money that will undoubtedly be thrown at this shindig. The father of the bride, despite cornering the market on mail order balloons and party poppers, sure as hell can’t afford it!
Cast your mind back to 1981. Tory government, country in recession, bitch of a budget and a Royal Wedding.
2010 – Tory government, country in recession, bitch of a budget and – guess what! Dave Best and Denise Royle are trundled out to ease our misery.
It would not surprise me one iota if the Boy David, on one of his evening chats with Brenda, had ordered the old girl to get the young pup up the aisle to marry his squeeze-of-nine-years.
“The country needs a tonic, Ma’am.” or, to put it another way – bread and circuses!