Not Tonight, Will

The Embassy staff here, along with all the other potential recipients of the OBE (other buggers’ efforts) for services to international relations, are throwing a wedding bash on Friday. Wall-to-wall coverage of the Big Day, plus beer. I could’ve got a ticket but didn’t in fact apply since I have rather too many dark Republican tendencies and the cucumber sandwiches would doubtless have turned to dust and ashes in my mouth. I have nothing whatever against the estate of Matrimony – indeed if familiarity be any guide, I might count myself quite an authority on the matter. Neither do I bear the young helicopter pilot any ill-will, he’s a dead ringer for my son – if balder. And she seems a pleasant enough little filly, if a bit skinny for my particular taste. I rather doubt however that the Palace would have resounded with undisguised whoops of merriment had Wills chosen differently.

There’s an extra large facility on my image editor which I’ve actually avoided using.

What always amuses me is the curiously conservative attitude of the British population. Whenever they get a chance to flag-wave and show a bit of solidarity for the House of Windsor, they do so with almost immoderate gusto suggesting they’d prefer them to carry on gallivanting at vast expense to the Exchequer and opening hospitals than not and this time, they get a day off as well to do it. 
The Langham, alert to a PR opportunity and self-proclaimed inventor of Afternoon Tea, shamelessly plagiarised by the Ritz, is offering the following:

Freshly made finger sandwiches including:
Lobster and cucumber with fennel pollen;
Scottish salmon poached in pink Champagne with green peppercorns;
Castle of Mey beef sirloin with horseradish.

Delicate speciality pastries, scones and desserts including:

Westminster Abbey chocolate cake; 
Apricot and raspberry Royal Crown; 
Royal Champagne jelly; 
Warm wild lavender and honey scones with Devonshire clotted cream and strawberry preserve. 

…and the little shortbread wedding dress is particularly tasteful.

All this, plus a glass of Laurent-Perrier NV for just over a hundred quid for two. Lovely. I could get a new hard drive for that.

The last time we elected to dispose of a monarch, barely ten years later, after a decade of cancelled Christmases and compulsory worship, his successor was welcomed back with a few muttered words of apology. The French, on the other hand, set about  aristocratic genocide with far more determination and the cleansing was so radical that we now have Sarkozy instead. Brits like having a monarch. It’s like owning a pedigree cat, but more expensive.
i do rather feel sorry for Miss Middleton, however. The pressure to conceive will be enormous and no excuses will be tolerated.


3 thoughts on “Not Tonight, Will

  1. Footnote. Cromwell suffered from the vagaries of British indecision and after the Restoration was posthumously executed. His head, after changing hands several times, is now buried in the grounds of a Cambridge college. Sic transit…


  2. There were no cucumber sandwiches. We had a choice of sweet crepes from the Crowne Plaza, burgers from Prime Rib, and a great variety of libations in the form of different flavours of “Tea.” (Mr. Hyperbole introduced us to Shandies. Not bad. Could make even English beer palatable.) Oh…and a great rock n roll band called “Tush.” it was a gorgeous night, not too hot with a nice stiff breeze in a lovely green garden. Even closet republicans enjoyed themselves.


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