Keeping up with the Windsors
Not the toe-sucking, blackmailing Fergie.
More the fun-loving, insecure little redhead who had trouble keeping up with the Windsors.
The Firm now has its iron grip on the world; there is no television channel anywhere that is ignoring this nuptual snorefest. The Royals are on the tube twenty-four seven with no detail left under wraps, save the final design of the wedding dress.
Such pageantry, such pomp, such largesse.
There has been nothing like it since…the wedding of Diana Spencer and Charles, Prince of Wales.
And look how that turned out.
If I were a tax-paying publican, I would be up in arms about spending millions to make sure Princess Kate Who Waits doesn’t get her frilly bottoms ruffled. Apparently, it will be difficult to find an inch of pavement without a bored Bobby peering down aged cleavage in between time taken looking for terrorists or protestors.
Or grouchy limeballs.
I find it hard to swallow, the line that the Royals are paying for this themselves.
Sure, they’re forking out for the food and the wine — they already own the jewels — and they’ll be paying the pastor.
For their part, the Middling Middletons will be picking up the tab for the wedding dress, which should be an eye-popper at 50,000 pounds.
Call me a cynic, but I hope there is an audit to make sure the Middleton’s party planning business doesn’t get a few kickbacks for supplying the wedding planner and party favors.
These are tough times in the world, and the whole Royal Wedding thing is a bit rich for me.
This all occurred to me last night while watching The King’s Speech. Back in Grandpapa’s day, the British King actually served some purpose; he provided inspiration and hope to a people already war weary. King George agonized over his role as monarch, and passed on some important values to his little daughter who would sacrifice much her life to rule Britannia.
This group doesn’t get it.
They open libraries and tour stables. They fuss over which palace to live in. They ponder whether to ski in Saint Tropez or sun in Lisbon.
It’s all about trips and stuff.
When I look at Will and Kate, I don’t feel Will and Kate.
I don’t feel inspired. It’s the same feeling I get watching Oprah’s Favorite Things.
Envious, even a wee bit bitter.
I hope we no longer have to endure the Royal Family once the Queen is planted.
Let them get on with being rich and leave us out.
Us in Canada, anyway.
It’s just my opinion.
Those of you who love this stuff, have at it.
I’ll be sleeping soundly when the bells of Westminster chime next Friday.
As they say in the Pampers commercial, good luck out there.