The Judge RANTS!
Cry "Oh, Gawd...!"
As a loyal peon (that's 'peon' as in, "I wouldn't if they were on fire"), I am duty-bound to comment on today's glorious announcement.
Just a few happy but random thoughts occur to me:
- Go looking for the stories which are not being reported today. Check particularly for announcements released sotto voce by government departments, most especially the DWP and the Home Office. As someone said, today is a good day for burying bad news.
But don't go looking for them at the BBC or Rupertvision (where the Witchellgasmatron and the Burleyfrothinator are already being unpacked from their crates in a loose-box just behind The Mews and fettled up), or in prissy-but-approving orifices like the Undergrad or the Saudipendent. There are myriad independent news sources out there nowadays, and even RT covers the reality of life on this off-white little, shite little island with more cogency and credibility than the official agencies nowadays.
- Isn't the wedding scheduled for around about the time that that composite organism called Willsnkate are due to provide us with yet another welfare claimant? An odd and uncharacteristic lack of co-ordination there; perhaps the new princess will unexpectedly give birth to a full-term infant about three months early?
- I'm sure the father of the groom is delighted, although I haven't actually seen a quote from James Hewitt yet.
- And, following seamlessly on from that, I wonder whether we'll see the racist element of Greater England Nationalism suddenly raise the allegations about young Henry's patrimony in order to discredit him as being a 'wrong 'un' all along, and all for the heinous sin of marrying - as they would see it - a wog?
- The Big Event will, in any case, cement the relationship between the monarchy and showbiz in such a way as - like with Trump in the colonies - to make manifest to all but the most high-density portion of the serfs-at-large what was going on all along. Except that, this time around, it is the celeb who might be seen to be marrying beneath her. After all, she knows what it is like actually to have had a proper job.
And there we have it, dear fellow subjects; months of joyous Harryspecation and Meghanifery ahead of us, as otherwise superficially sane people drool over the sight of The Royal Ring. When they're not kissing it, of course.