Romantic Celebration
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Given the blanket media coverage currently smothering every other news item, from wars and poverty to political shenanigans, you might assume from the title of this post that I’m adding my voice to the sycophantic hysteria surrounding the announcement of a royal engagement.
Well I’m not.
So is this post to be a diatribe against monarchical hierarchies and the utter bewilderment that in the 21st Century the British still put store by the idea of birthright enabling a tiny minority to have all the status and trappings of vast wealth, power and superiority over the rest of us plebs?
No, I’ll leave that for another day.
Is it about my bafflement that the new princess-in-waiting is being declared an ordinary girl next door despite meeting her husband-to-be at an elite university and having millionaires for parents?
Not really.
Perhaps then, my real beef is with the obsequious, smarmy, kowtowing, brown-nosing reporting of this event by the cringe-worthy fawning of TV and radio presenters who clearly have an eye on their CBEs, OBEs and knighthoods when Prince Willy is crowned King and are busy trying to ingratiate themselves in the most sickeningly toadying ways possible?
Tempting. But no.
Actually, all I want to say is today Maggie and I celebrate 20 years together! And as my stepdaughter, Holly, is happy to baby-sit, we’re heading out to an Italian restaurant for a meal tonight on our own.
.
Given the blanket media coverage currently smothering every other news item, from wars and poverty to political shenanigans, you might assume from the title of this post that I’m adding my voice to the sycophantic hysteria surrounding the announcement of a royal engagement.
Well I’m not.
So is this post to be a diatribe against monarchical hierarchies and the utter bewilderment that in the 21st Century the British still put store by the idea of birthright enabling a tiny minority to have all the status and trappings of vast wealth, power and superiority over the rest of us plebs?
No, I’ll leave that for another day.
Is it about my bafflement that the new princess-in-waiting is being declared an ordinary girl next door despite meeting her husband-to-be at an elite university and having millionaires for parents?
Not really.
Perhaps then, my real beef is with the obsequious, smarmy, kowtowing, brown-nosing reporting of this event by the cringe-worthy fawning of TV and radio presenters who clearly have an eye on their CBEs, OBEs and knighthoods when Prince Willy is crowned King and are busy trying to ingratiate themselves in the most sickeningly toadying ways possible?
Tempting. But no.
Actually, all I want to say is today Maggie and I celebrate 20 years together! And as my stepdaughter, Holly, is happy to baby-sit, we’re heading out to an Italian restaurant for a meal tonight on our own.
.
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