Friday, November 19, 2010

A Royal Wedding, Hurrah!

Hooray, hooray! There's going to be a Royal Wedding! Prince What's-his-name is marrying that bint the tabloids like photographing. Isn't it just what we want to lift the doom and gloom of this recession, eh? There's nothing like a bit of pomp and circumstance to lift the spirits of the proles in the face of devastating public service cuts, redundancies, pay cuts and abject poverty. Oh yes, television screens showing lots of unfeasibly posh and rich pillocks arriving in their limos at Westminster Abbey in HD and widescreen will make the common man happy! At least, that's what those Tory toffs who have seized power hope. Yes indeed, folks, I feel another of those 'convenient conspiracies' coming on! I mean, after those students stormed Tory HQ during that protest over tuition fees the other week, the bastards must have been bricking it, worried that the backlash against their neo-Thatcherite policies was kicking in earlier than expected. With the whiff of revolution in the air, there was only one thing for it - a Royal Wedding.

The masterstroke, of course, lies in having a Prince marrying a commoner - that's bound to keep the masses happy. After all, it gives them hope, doesn't it? Next time it could be them marrying into a life of unimaginable wealth. Such dreams are invaluable in keeping people's minds off of the dreary reality of their lives. That said, the bride-to-be isn't your average commoner, now is she? Her parents - described by the media as 'self-made millionaires' - are almost as well-off as the Royal Family. But of course, with Britain entering a 'New Age of Austerity', (a phrase currently being registered as a trademark by David Cameron), there are calls for the Royal couple to set an example and have a lower-key, low-budget wedding. Somehow, though, I can't see the entire Royal Family turning up at the Windsor Registry Office before retiring to the back room of a local pub for beer and crab sandwiches, followed by a quick dance to the pulsating eighties soundtrack of Big Barry's Mobile Disco. My money's still on Westminster Abbey and a knees up at the Palace - but with a modest guest list restricted to only the five hundred richest toffs in Europe.

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