The Royal Wedding: a (very) common person’s guide

I can’t say I agree with the notion that the spectacle of Kate & William’s wedding helps us to feel closer to the Royal family. I don’t see much in common between the young Prince and myself. Regrettably, I’ve never been heir to one of the world’s largest fortunes nor flown a helicopter, and now, less regrettably, I’ve never married any of the girls that I slept with at university either.

On the contrary, I’m sure we all agree that Friday’s happy event was the culmination of a return to glorious traditional values amid the vulgar insanity of the modern world. It’s so reassuring to see that in this politically correct, post-feminist age, a girl still can aspire to one of the highest offices in the land, simply by letting a posh bloke smash her back doors in. She really does deserve hearty congratulations for making it all the way to the top on her back. Or perhaps it was her hands and knees. Or maybe they have one of those special swings. We can only imagine. At any rate, it brings new meaning to the phrase “climbing the greasy pole”.

But the vicar told me to go up the back

Celebrating the relatively humble heritage of the bride, it was billed to be a spectacle of commoners mingling with the great and the good, and to be sure, amid the ambassadors, kings & queens, stalked David & Victoria Beckham, who are indeed as common as shit on a dungheap. I also noted with affection that Elton John had accepted his invitation, despite the sobering realisation that Kate would one day be Queen of England instead of him.

There was a further heart stirring moment when I saw Kate’s father looking skyward as the Red Arrows soared overhead. Lip readers tweeted Sky News to relay his whispered words: “F*ck me, am I paying for that lot, too?”

Now, I come from a family of Irish Catholics, where weddings are hard drinking affairs, and having less than three fist fights at the reception is considered to be an omen of ill-fortune. In this respect, this decidedly quiet protestant union was somewhat disappointing, but I see from the Sky News ticker that there was apparently one incident of public disorder. No details were given, but I suspect that the Queen may have overdone the sherbet at the cake-cutting and lumped someone. Trust me, it was bound to happen.

Despite this, there was a very disciplined order to the rest of the proceedings, with William wearing the uniform of the Colonel of the Irish Guards and Miss Middleton’s dress making her nipples stand out like alarmingly large calibre bullets, adding still further to the decidedly military ambience of this remarkable display of British pageantry.

And we shall always remember that heart-stopping moment in the ceremony when it seemed that the ring was a little too small. Unfazed, romantic Wills gave his bride-to-be a wry “reminds me of our first time” grin before shoving it rather roughly into place.

There was then a more serious interlude when some ecclesiastical bigwig in a funny hat gave a stern lecture about his needing to be “faithful” and her needing to be “amiable” that roughly translated as:

“You, boy! Don’t you dare cheat on her like your old man did with that awful Godzilla woman. And you, girl! If you nag him like a fishwife he’ll end up shagging some old boot and you’ll be left to go shopping in Dubai on the end of some lonely billionaire’s cock.”

At least I think that’s what he said…

Just between you and me, I don’t know why people get so angry about the thought of Camilla becoming Queen one day. She doesn’t seem to mind canoodling with that hideous bald bloke and if that isn’t serving one’s country then I don’t know what is. Mark me, she’ll do well at those state dinners where you have to eat creamed monkey brains and smile. I’m sure by now she can crack a grin with just about anything in her mouth.

But back to William & Kate: who can forget that touching scene on the balcony. Actually, we weren’t able to see the touching because of the large concrete railing in front of their hips, but judging by the way the crowd of loyal beggars were baying “give it some tongue!” and “grab me a handful of that ass, Windsor!” we can be sure from the delight on both of their newly-wed faces that our impatient and crowd-pleasing Prince was already getting busy with his royal fingers out of sight of the cameras.

Then there was the lovely touch of irony as the royal couple appeared in an old Aston Martin, decked out with tin cans and ribbons in the fashion of common scum tying the knot and then trying to look rich for the day. I understand that the young lovers took inspiration from for this from the Channel 4 series: “My Tacky and Disgusting Chav Wedding”, and had even toyed with the idea of pulling into a lay-by to “give it some” on the back seat just to warm the hearts of the cheering grannies lining the route. Sadly, at the last minute, the couple decided to opt for a two-seater sports car, ruling out the possibility of any royal, chassis-rocking action. An opportunity missed to be sure, but there you are.

I’d like to finish by wishing this lovely young couple all the best. They should enjoy the flower of their youth while it lasts. She looks like she’s stopped eating already and he’s inherited his father’s haircut. They therefore need to get as much serious sex in as they can, before the staff start looking attractive.

A souvenir to treasure...

I was considering buying the BBC DVD to commemorate the occasion, but as luck would have it, there is already a “Wills & Kate Wedding Night Special” which you can download for £9.99 from RudeTube with any major credit card. This high definition masterpiece, beautifully filmed in close-up, is the kind of souvenir you’ll watch again and again, trust me on this one.

It was all very educational. I can tell you. You wouldn’t believe how big the Middleton baps really are when His Royal Highness pops them smartly out of that wedding dress. And she has a lovely tattoo on the small of her back which I didn’t know about before. But she’s a very talented girl – very flexible.

I’ll never eat wedding cake again without first rinsing it under the tap, of course, but as for the groom, well let’s just say they won’t be calling him King Willy for nothing!