LAST MONTH, when I received my invite to the Royal Wedding way ahead of Huberman, it should have been one of the happiest moments of my life. Okay, so “call me Catherine” had scuppered my chances of inheriting the Queenship and the late Princess Diana’s vintage 1980s wardrobe. I’d still get cake and my pick of the remaining litter at the reception, right?
Imagine my surprise when I discovered that not everyone was overjoyed to hear about the historic occasion of my early invite.
That’s right. A stroll around Dublin’s lamp posts reveals a whole bunch of crazy anti-royal sentiment. Look carefully between the posters for something about Gaza and something about street theatre, and you find “No Royal Visits” stickers and “clever” anti- wedding comments.
Sigh and/or yawn. I cannot think what these people might have against Kate Middleton or the Queen. That coral coat was bloody ages ago and is not a good enough reason to go around defacing lamp posts with lunatic views in the dead of night.
Now, I have nothing against “opinion” per se. I just don’t see how any opinion that comes between you and a party can be an opinion worth having.
It’s always something with opinionated people, isn’t it? You can’t wear the shoes because there are only 60 of those snakes left in the entire world. You can’t have diamonds because all the money goes to warlords. That’s just stupid. I know for a fact the money goes to the jeweller.
I also know that these opinion people are hypocrites. They say they don’t like the monarchy because it’s undemocratic. But hang on a nano. Kate is an ordinary millionairess who went to an ordinary public school that demanded its students share the same swimming pool and forced girls to sleep two to a suite. Her father, a children’s party paraphernalia mogul, paid for his own furniture and owns much less of Lincolnshire than many people think.
That’s why I’m proposing
that, on April 29th, as Kate Middleton strikes a blow for deportment and the nouveau riche, we all take to the streets in celebration. It’s high time somebody showed all the miserable people how to celebrate a Royal Wedding properly. Kate, who grew up without so much as a Russian ballet mistress, is the real people’s princess, and Irish people are people too.
Register your street party now on irishtimes.com and be in with a chance of winning two dozen plastic Union Jacks proudly emblazoned with the words “Let Bygones Be Bygones” and a commemorative plate that reads “800 years or what now?” under a picture of the happy smiling couple.
I, of course, will be otherwise occupied on the day. I’ll be using this invite that arrived way before Huberman’s.
