And totally off topic, we currently have martial law and a curfew here in Thailand, it’s very exciting. There are soldiers lolling about at road junctions, the schools are closed (yay!) and the TV is off. I just hope they don’t switch off the net as has been rumoured.
Their Royal Highnesses
Our favourite Trainee King is on top simpering form today on his tour of the Middle East. Talking to those lovely chaps in Qatar, he has let it be known that he is so fascinated by Muslim culture that he has been taking lessons in Arabic for the last six months, so that he can read the Koran in it’s original form.
Well best of luck with that Your Hopelessness. The man who tried to teach you Welsh, once told me that you have about as much natural ability in learning languages as a poached egg.
“I tried to learn it once but I gave up. It goes in one ear and out the other.”
Yes some of us have already spotted the gaping chasm between your left and right earlobes, Your Obtuseness.
This is all a warm up for him becoming the Defender of Faiths when he finally Zimmer frame assisted ascends to the Throne of course. And we can look forward to more Peers of the Realm of this Calibre. I’m sure.
Meanwhile, his Consort, (Keith Richard’s mum) was having a chat with the ladies of Qatar. Seems they are rapidly moving from the 7th Century and are almost approaching the 17th… They’ve got jobs! Well not quite real ones, more home shopping really. But hey it’s a start isn’t it?
I could be a slippery slope though for you Qatari males if you don’t keep an eye on them you know. Mobile phone parties today, Ann Summers Hen do’s tomorrow. “No it’s an electric toothbrush Ali, honest! You know how much you love my smile. It’s the only thing that isn’t covered up”.
From The Guardian…
One of seven Saudis due to be put to death on Tuesday by crucifixion and firing squad for armed robbery, speaking over a smuggled mobile phone from his prison cell, has appealed for help to stop the executions.
Nasser al-Qahtani told Associated Press from Abha general prison on Monday that he was arrested as part of 23-member ring that stole from jewellery stores in 2004 and 2005. He said they had been tortured to confess and had no access to lawyers.
They were apparently juves at the time which don’t matter a jot to me. Nothing much does when I hear the word “crucifixion” uttered in anger in 2013AD. And I bet it’s done in public though you won’t be able to sup a beer during the hilarity for that would be immoral. Or watch girls in their summer clothes for that too would be immoral. Crucifixion for three days though is moral. Sometimes allegedly they behead you first – with a sword. Thank heavens for small mercies. God almighty, even the bloody Romans would take a few coins to break the condemned’s legs and help ‘em on their way. These depraved camel fuckers are beyond anything I can imagine – 3 days! Is that in the Qu’ran? I’ll bet dollars to donuts it ain’t anyway it’s 2013 for the love of fuck. A kid was born recently who was HIV+ and is now not. Dennis Tito is planning a second honeymoon for a middle-aged couple to Mars! My wife’s new phone has more computing power than Alan Turing ever played with. But not it would seem in the Un-Magic Kingdom (the unhappiest place on Earth). What an epic shit-hole!
1. 9/11 terrorists – 15/19 were Saudis.
2. One enlightened princeling owns an airline (as you do) and employs a female pilot. This is progress – w only got there with Amy and Amelia when my grandad wasn’t even in short pants – of course we could have got there sooner but we had to wait for two guys from Ohio to build a ‘plane. Of course whilst she can fly (because they never got around to banning it) she can’t drive to the airport because women can’t drive. She’s allowed to fly a Boeing or Airbus but a Toyota is beyond her.
3. The last King (the one before Abdullah) had hordes of children due to his harem and due to his alleged “dicky ticker” had the planet’s only one-step escalator installed in the Royal Palace.
4. I can’t go to Mecca on pain of death! Only Muslims can. Not that there is much point anyway because it’s all been paved to build 5* hotels for rich folk on the Hajj (have you seen the cost of that?). The archaeological stuff has just been flattened. It’s like Vegas without the gambling and booze and broads. Or a complete fucking waste of concrete in the desert.
But they are a key ally in the “War on Terror” (see 1) and for some Godforsaken reason we sell ‘em Gen 4.5 Strike Fighters. Blimey. The first time I saw a Tiffy it was in RSAF colours in Malta. I assume on a ferry trip. They also crucify people. I wouldn’t trust those intellectual and moral retards with a propelling pencil let alone a fighter jet. And BAE Systems only managed to get the deal via grand an hour hookers and Scotch Whisky laid down when Rob Roy was knee-high to a grasshopper. If it wasn’t for the World-Class blow-jobs and the Malts they’d have bought Block-52-60+ F-16s like any sensible person. But so would we! And I guess when you are in a country that is dryer than an Arab’s sandal* and all the girls wear the Millet’s back catalogue God knows.
Perhaps the odd crucifixion relieves the tedium somewhat. God alone knows why we don’t call them for what they are. They aren’t the only gaff knee-deep in four-star. Alberta is but that involves fracking which is controversial. Now if fracking is controversial where does that put crucifixtion?
We live in a very morally troubled World.
*BTW the (in)famous episode of “Yes, Minister” in which Jim Hacker get’s pissed on a visit to a fictional Mid-East country is based on truth. That’s magic that is, “There is a call from the Scotch (sic) Office – a delegation of Teachers”. “A call from the Soviet Embassy – a Mr Smirnoff”.
So Prince Harry has killed some fellas in the ‘stan. Well, that’s his job innit? Put a fellow in a GBP65mill choper and expect them to pootle then that is an obscene waste of money. He was there to stick 30mm chain-gun rounds up beards. Have you seen what one of those does to a personage? They cut you in half. And then there are the Hellfire missiles and Hydra rockets and that is DNA if you are lucky. You’re still well dead mind.
An aside: I’m glad the BBC has finally admitted Harry ain’t a pilot. He’s a gunner. I knew that months ago because I saw him get into the front seat of an Apache.
Well, it’s good Harry is back and in one piece (unlike so many of our lads and lasses that get C-17ed back in bits). God and Captain Wales possibly know. I don’t. After 9/11 we should have gone in done an epic stomp, bagged bin Laden and got the fuck out by January at the latest. Afghanistan is an unmitigated and unmitagetable shit-hole of the first water. I saw an interview a year or so back with a US Army officer. He’d been to meet the twinkly ol’ tribal elders and they’d given him tea and all. But when (he was an engineer) suggested building a bridge to this Allah-forsaken shit-hole which would create jobs and work and all the rest they were like nay! For all the young fellows were a-Talebaning. Well, fuck ‘em I say! Post being nice to the locals this US Army officer didn’t say but gave every impression what he was really thinking. Which was basically, “Beam me up Scotty!” We could spend the next hundred years “nation-building” in the ‘stan and we would get nowhere. The gaff is undefuckable. It doesn’t even look medieval. It looks Jurassic. Either we get the eff out like now or we take the Lt Ripley option but this buggering about in what is Britain’s 4th (count ‘em!) Afghan War is just an inglorious waste of blood and treasure.
You know how the Taleban came to power? Two warlords fought a duel in Central Kabul over the rights to the bottom of a young lad. They fought it in ex-Soviet tanks. I mean as you do. Most natural thing in the World – to get in your T-72 to claim your buggery rights. And that is how the Taleban came to power. People saw them as a stabilizing force. Obviously they were very evil but a choice between Islamist repression and complete anarchy isn’t much of a choice.
I’m just glad I don’t live there. I will be grimly curious as to what the female literacy rate is ten years from now.
I’m not hopeful.
I just heard Cherie Blair is to be made a CBE for “Services to Charity” and “Women’s Issues”. Now to be fair to Ms Booth she has advanced the position dramatically of at least one woman. Or perhaps she ought to have got it for “Services to Drama” for she (a) owns the world’s largest dressing-up box and (b) she is the real Lady Macbeth.
On the other hand I was vaguely amused that, as the BBC put it, Sarah Storey (our local heroine*) has been “Made a Dame” which makes her sound like some sort of transgendered gangster. Her hubby, the similarly gold-winning, Barney got nowt which is fair enough because he almost totaled me on his bike recently.
*I posted all my Crimble cards into her golden slot.
Now much has been said about abolishing primogeniture which as Single Acts of Tyranny points out is like something from the Dark Ages. He of course goes further so read the whole thing. Good post.
But, yesterday, and before I read SAoT’s spot-on post, I clocked something. The extreme form of morning sickness that the Duchess of Cambridge has is frequently associated with a multiple pregnancy. Now being a monarch is very much a lottery of life thing at the best of times but if it is a case of twins born a couple of minutes apart it kind of focuses debate as to the arbitrariness of the order of succession.
Now, I’m a computer geek with no kids but I have a little knowledge of the mechanics and my understanding is that particularly for multiple births a C-section is often the delivery method of choice. I assume in such cases the order of succession is defined by which child is taken from the womb first. I assume this is down to the clinical decision of a member of the Royal College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists. A more obscure form of determining a future Head of State is beyond me.
Just a thought. At the risk of sounding vile both involve appraising entrails. Whether of a princess or a goat matters little.
Although, to be fair, if they are identical twins they can alternate the more tiresome duties, “It’s an even numbered day so you get to open the industrial park outside of Swindon!”. Nobody will know the difference. I can see an upside. Especially if it is the tiresome “spectacle” of the Royal Variety Performance with Joe Pasquale in his sodding bath-chair being as tedious as ever.
It goes without saying that I wish them all the best. The wife of a mate of mine had a tricky pregnancy recently. All worked out OK in the end but… For a while my mate didn’t look anywhere near 100%. Nor would you, nor would I. I never saw his wife at the time.
And returns and returns. Chuckles Buggerlugs 111, our future (unless he falls under a number 47 bus) and final King, is at it again. The Air-miles Airhead assails us once again. The Private Frazier of the Monarchy tells us that we are “Doomed! Doomed !!” if we don’t follow his example in Saving the Planet.
I’d love to follow his Horsesarsedness, jetting around the Planet spreading gloom and doom, running my motors on left over wine from Banquets, and having a Butler prime my toothbrush with toothpaste of a morning, wouldn’t you? But hey ,I have to live in the real world, Chuckles doesn’t . And in the real world, we sentient beings know the Planet stopped warming 19 years ago, and that Windmills and solar panels are not the salvation of Mankind, but the biggest scam since the Holland Tulip lunacy and the South Sea Bubble.
“His comments came in a pre-recorded video speech accepting a lifetime achievement award at the 7th International Green Awards at Battersea Power Station in London. “
[ there’s a deep irony in there somewhere, can you spot it boys and girls?]
Ah but now with this pat on the head from his Fellow Travellers, he feels emboldened to indulge in a bit of self righteousness…
Speaking of his early warnings of the environmental threats to the planet he said the lifetime achievement award was an acknowledgement for what he described as his ‘rather inadequate efforts’ to create change.
He added: ‘All those years ago when I began to see that this could be so, I found myself labelled with every term that describes a crank.
[That’s because you are, your Hopelessness ]
“I don’t actually recommend it as a pastime but, extraordinary as it may seem, nowadays … that intuitive feeling has been backed up by a mass of scientific evidence in every possible field confirming that our predominant approach is having a very adverse effect on nature.’ [ In a Pig’s eye!]
Ah But the Green Ink King isn’t going to stop at just saving Gaia is he? No, every subject under the sun is in his fiefdom, and he demands his fifteen minutes of attention er… every 15 minutes.
Last month the government blocked the release of secret letters Prince Charles wrote to ministers because they would ‘seriously damage’ his political neutrality and his role as future king.
The letters were requested under the Freedom of Information Act, but the Attorney General Dominic Grieve stopped the release saying they were ‘particularly frank’ and would ‘potentially have undermined his position of political neutrality’ if published.
Well fancy that! Dominic Grieve eh? The toady’s toady.
Mark my words; the infantile mentally unarmed self regarding and self righteous imbecile , Chuckles Buggerlugs 111, will be our last Monarch.
Brian is at it again.
The Prince of Wales has warned of the “catastrophic” consequences of inaction on issues such as climate change, at a UN sustainability conference in Brazil.
Trans: Brian’s mummy failed to fall off her Thames barge and drown step down in favour of her idiot son rightful and deserving heir. In the absence of gainful employment he’s going to continue making sure the lives of hoi polloi become as intolerable as possible by escalating actions to price them out of the essential living commodities market. Meanwhile he’ll be doing all the things he’s insisting no one else should (and most can’t afford to) do – living in massive houses with humongous carbon footprints, flying around the world delivering sanctimonious speeches, driving a fleet of grossly expensive, fuel guzzling cars and having an unhealthy interest in tampons (shome mishtake shurely? – Ed). It’s what hypocrites do best after all.
Prince Charles said he had “watched in despair” at the slow pace of progress on the “critical issues of the day,” in a pre-recorded video address in Rio.
Obviously the issue of a fast paced growth demographic of Her Britannic Majesty’s subjects falling into fuel poverty and risking death by hypothermia during the next harsh winter (despite warmist insistence that snowy winters are a thing of the past) isn’t critical enough. Meet your future monarch, folks. He cares more about apocryphal global catastrophism and endangered slime molds than he cares about you. Alternatively he could be as mad as a box of frogs on speed. Or maybe both.
Pop goes the Monarchy: The Queen listened to Paul McCartney – and I heard the end of the Royal Family
- So says Hitch.
The worst moment of all was the Buckingham Palace concert, where the poor Queen pledged allegiance to the vile new culture of talentless celebrity. Any institution that has to suck up to Grace Jones and Paul McCartney to get down with the kids has plainly lost the will to live.
Sir Paul McCartney and “getting down with the kids”. Where has Hitch been these past fifty years? Did he go into some form of stasis when Lord Reith retired? “The kids” parents weren’t born when the lovable Scouse mop-tops were first storming the charts. I would agree mind that Grace Jones hula-hooping was a bit odd but then Ms Jones is a bit odd – so what? Entertainers tend to be. Quite a fewer “classical” composers of yore were barking.
It is a measure of how bad things have got that Her Majesty has to pretend to like the cacophonous, semi-literate, musically trite rubbish that seems to have invaded almost every space in this country.I bet she loathes it, really.
But you don’t know do you Hitch? Or has the Mail hacked Her Majesty’s iPhone? As to the rest of Hitch’s tirade against popular music. Has he actually listened to any of it. Oh, and as an amusing aside does Hitch know the origin of the word “cacophony”? It was coined in a review of the premiere of Beethoven’s Eroica Symphony.
Actually, though it is almost dangerous to say so, there are still quite a few people who actively dislike pop music, not just because of its ugly intrusiveness but also because of the sort of people who make it, and because of the message it ceaselessly spreads through millions of loudspeakers and millions of headphones clamped to millions of heads.
The sort of people! Wow!
Its songs are the hymns and anthems of the modern religion of The Self. Self-pity. Self-indulgence. Drugs. Loveless sex. They are the exact opposite of the Queen’s pledge, made on her 21st birthday in 1947, that ‘My whole life, whether it be long or short, shall be devoted to your service’.
That isn’t so much a shark-jump as a triple salko over a great white. And the comparison Hitch makes is bizarre. A pledge of allegiance is one thing. Pop music is just about fun. Get over yourself Hitch! You sound like some deluded quasi-feminist railing against pictures of models in Cosmopolitan.
I really do wonder how all the complacent commentators, who have praised the Monarch for trying to live up to this pledge, can square this with their equally gushing praise for the concert.
Oh Gods! Where to start…
The Britain celebrated last week was one which laughs at ideas such as duty and service, and which has jeered at the Queen for most of her reign precisely because she stands for these things – which it regards as stuffy and outmoded.
Only by treating her as a harmless, meaningless old granny, to be simultaneously indulged and ignored, can the Beatles generation bring themselves to clap along to a funky electric version of God Save The Queen. It’s them she needs to be saved from.
It goes on but I just can’t.
When was the last time Britain had an honest to God warrior Prince? Well, Phillip was a warrior, but wasn’t a member of the Royal Family at the time.
Andrew? He didn’t make a life career out of it. Charles? Hmph. A stint in the military does not a warrior make.
Cry ‘God for Harry, England, and Saint George!’
Exeunt. Alarum, and chambers go off
I flicked on the BBC News this morning and there was a load of crap on about the Royal Wedding. Specifically it was a collection of twats discussing clips of Royal Weddings of yesteryear. They focussed especially on Chuckles and Di. And how during the depths of economic despair back in ’81 it was exactly what the country needed and they with straight faces and the mere glisten to the eye reflected on how it was a “fairy tale”. I’d say more like a bloody nightmare seeing as Chuckles shagged Camilla the night before… Anyway it must have been cold-comfort to the 3 million unemployed but so what? They could take one day out of their cares and be uplifted (I paraphrase but that was the gist) and watch it on the telly (as long as the re-po man hadn’t been around – yet).
Marrying the man you love might be considered enough of a first for any woman. But on Friday at 11am, when Catherine Middleton steps into Westminster Abbey to exchange vows with Prince William, this commoner will become a true royal pioneer.
Kate will be the first royal bride to have a university degree, the first to have lived with her husband before marriage, the first to have a mother who used to be an air hostess, the first to be raised in a house that has a street number instead of a fancy name and a moat with swans. Whatever snobs may say about the suitability of the match between the middle-class Miss Middleton and the monarchy, there can be no doubt of one glorious fact: some day, she will be the first Queen of England to have fallen over at a roller disco in a pair of yellow hotpants.
Well at least she wasn’t wearing a thong and mini-skirt otherwise Compton and Woodlouse would be issueing a limited edition collectable, The Minge of Kings. Anyway, I know full-well Catherine of Braganza used to roller-blade in the nip down the long-gallery of Hampton Court Palace.
It is Kate’s only serious slip-up so far [Boom Boom!]. Not bad for a girl who has had to endure the longest job interview in history. Kate was 19 when, in 2001, she met William during their first term at St Andrews University. They became friends – and, eight months later, more than that. Fast forward eight years and Kate was two months away from her 29th birthday when their engagement was announced.
I dunno about the Royals but clearly Allison Pearson who penned this epically patronising bilge doesn’t live in anything like the real world. Patronising to everyone but especially to Miss Middleton. Does anything strike you as unusual about that relationship arc? Obviously it seems so to Ms Pearson and much the rest of the meedja hence the ridiculous, Mills and Baboonish “The Princess who Waited” narrative. And that “two months shy of being 29 (nearly 30!)” schtick is vomitus maximus in it’s sexism. Tell ya what! They should have just arranged a marriage to a virgin of good breeding in the manner of the Plantagenets because that worked brilliantly last generation.
Eight long years in which the quiet, sporty brunette, famous at school for her record-breaking high jump and tenacious character, earned the humiliating nickname of Waity Katie. Why didn’t the art history graduate use her brain and find herself a proper job, demanded the press. Kate’s failure to get a ring on her finger became a national joke.
“Humiliating nickname”? C’mon Ms Pearson you can’t pull that on off after the patronising drivel you have been spouting here – that’s down to you and your cronies. And “national joke”. Oh for fuck’s sake!
But, as a friend in the couple’s circle points out, to get the promotion to fiancée, Kate couldn’t risk accepting any job that made her look like she was cashing in on her boyfriend’s name: she was stuck between a hard place and a rock. And not just any rock; it was the £250,000 sapphire and diamond ring that had belonged to William’s adored late mother.
“Promotion”? Jesus wept! And you know it would have been totally unheard of for a member of the Royal Family or a hanger-on to abuse the name to get ahead. I mean William’s uncles in particular would never dream of such a thing. As to jobs for posh art history graduates it is all who they know anyway. So what! ’tis the way of things. Student lads, you want to marry into money, hang around the art history department. Packed with rich quim. Learn a few phrases first. Here’s one for free, “Carravaggio – simply magnificent in his use of chiaroscuro!”. That will get you at least tops and fingers. Or your money back!
Anyway. I seem to have drifted off topic and this article just goes on and on. If you want to read the rest it’s here.
I am deeply sceptical about an elected head of state (I can hear Mandy’s coffin lid creaking already) but I am piggy rotten sick of this meaningless fawning adulation from almost all the media wanking themselves into a frenzy over this sort of crap. And moreover I am severely fecked-off with the whole commoner motif.
Time to be citizens, take-up knitting and purchase a tumbril!
Vive la révolution!
We are currently at war in Afghanistan and Libya is spiralling out of control. The entire civilized world is in the financial naughty corner, we have a prime minister who thinks he can make it all go away by taking his wife on holiday via Ryanair and what do our biggest selling tabloids run with…
Kate Middleton will not ‘obey’ in royal wedding vows – just like Prince William’s mum Diana.
I am shocked I tells ya! shocked!
KATE Middleton is set to follow Princess Diana’s example by ditching the word “obey” from her wedding vows.
Instead she is expected to promise to “love, comfort, honour and keep” Prince William when they tie the knot next Friday.
Kate, 29, and Wills, 28, discussed the wording with Archbishop of Canterbury Rowan Williams.
He said: “They have a very simple, direct picture of what really matters.”
Unlike, oddly enough, Rowan Williams who is by a country mile the most obfuscating fucker ever of woman born.
KATE Middleton was applauded last night for her decision to “do a Diana” and refuse to say the word “obey” in her wedding vows to Prince William.
In keeping with the couple’s thoroughly modern outlook, she is expected to shun the archaic promise – just like Princess Diana did 30 years ago.
Kate and Wills have also been warmly praised for the “simple and direct” way they have planned their wedding.
Just like Diana did 30 years ago and that’s a “thoroughly modern outlook”! Well, if that’s the case then fuck fixing PCs because I’ve got a ZX-81 to sell ya mate! Alan Sugar only crapped on it once, honest! I have been to a number of weddings since Chuckles and Di made their solemn vows before Archbishop Runcey (with Camilla’s lady-fat still gently congealing on the Royal Generative Member) and I have never heard anyone promise to obey anyone. This is not “ground-breaking”, this is just life. And you know what? I have no animus contra the royal family (apart from that useless twat Eddie, that sponging quarter-wit Fergie, her epically corrupt demi-husband Andy, that prune-faced moo Anne and that utterly despicable cunt and future “Defender of Faiths” Prince Chuckles of Tampax). Apart from them I’m not a republican. By which I mean I don’t frigging care – and if William and Catherine are happy with the sort of wedding vows that have been commonplace since I thought Lego was the coolest thing ever then it still is. But “simple and direct”. Oh, behave! It’s not like my wedding shut down central London or invited the King of Cambodia….
The Sun blares this…
King Norodom Sihamoni has not replied to the couple’s wedding invitation.
He is the only Royal out of dozens worldwide who has failed to respond.
Sihamoni, 57, a shaven-headed former ballet dancer and instructor, is not the first Cambodian king to snub a British royal wedding.
Send in the Typhoons Dave! He is clearly some form of Leo Sayer!
In 1963 his dad Sihanouk refused to attend Princess Alexandra’s wedding after being told he would not get a guard of honour and could not stay at Windsor Castle.
The utter cad!
1963! Why am I thinking of Harold Wilson and the white heat of Cambodian diplomacy or some such?
IT’S the biggest social event for 30 years – and The Sun can today name hundreds of the top guests due to attend next week’s glittering Royal Wedding.
It clearly is because I’m not invited.
The Sun says…
Viscount Althorp – William’s cousin. The son of Princess Diana’s brother Earl Spencer.
Miss Isabella Anstruther-Gough-Calthorpe – Stunning friend of William.
Miss Helen Asprey – The couple’s personal private secretary.
Mr and Mrs Rowan Atkinson – Comedian and Mr Bean actor, and his wife Sunetra.
Mr Harry Aubrey-Fletcher and his wife, Hon. Sarah Louise – William and Kate’s close pals.
Miss Annabel Ballin – Party planner is a friend of Kate’s.
Mr and Mrs David Beckham – Footballer and his pop star wife Victoria.
Doctor Holly Branson – Daughter of tycoon Sir Richard.
Mr and Mrs Fergus Boyd – William’s flatmate at St Andrews University.
Miss Jessica Craig – One of William’s former girlfriends.
Miss Chelsy Davy – Prince Harry’s girlfriend.
Mr David Dugmore and Mr Roger Dugmore – Safari park owners from Botswana.
Mr Mark Dyer and his wife Amanda – One of Prince Harry’s best friends.
Mr Ben Fogle and wife Marina – Telly star and a friend of both William and Kate.
The Lord and Lady Jane Fellowes – William’s aunt. The sister of Princess Diana.
Alexander Fellowes – William’s cousin. The son of Jane.
Eleanor Fellowes – William’s cousin. The daughter of Jane.
Miss Rosie Farquhar – One of William’s former girlfriends. An actress.[Dear God!}
Mr Rupert Finch – One of Kate’s former boyfriends.
Miss Alicia Fox-Pitt – One of Kate’s oldest friends.
Ms Daniella Helayel – Kate’s favourite fashion designer.
Miss Olivia Hunt – A former girlfriend of William.
Emilia d’Erlanger and David Jardine-Paterson – Emilia is Kate’s old schoolpal. William and Kate went to couple’s wedding last year.
Mrs Tiggy Legge-Bourke and her husband Charles – William’s former nanny.
Mr and Mrs James Lowther-Pinkerton – Part-time private secretary to William and Harry.
Captain Jack Mann – The polo-playing son of British mercenary Simon Mann.
Mr Willem Marx – One of Kate’s former boyfriends.
Lady Sarah McCorquodale and husband Neil – William’s aunt. Princess Diana’s older sister.
Miss Emily McCorquodale – William’s cousin. Daughter of Sarah.
Mr George McCorquodale – William’s cousin. Son of Sarah.
Miss Celia McCorquodale – William’s cousin. Daughter of Sarah.
Mr Harry Meade and wife Rosie – Showjumper.
Mr and Mrs Edward Milbank – Old friends of William.
The Hon James Tollemache – Childhood friend of William.
I think I want to go in a corner and puke. For I have run out of hyphens.
Some websites (and almost all dot.com businesses) have focus-grouped names. I mean by rights elephant.com (are they still going?) ought to be a place to buy and sell elephants and not car insurance. Other websites though are truly focussed and this is the case with Kim Jong-il looking at things. Or indeed Cats that look like Ron Swanson.
This is Kim looking at fruit…
What fascinates me about that image in particular is that whilst the side of the fruit stand facing Kim is laden with produce the side facing us looks a bit sparse. The Russians might have had Potemkin villages but it takes the true Juche lunacy of North Korea to have created the Potemkin fruit stand.
It reminds me of Warsaw just after the Berlin Wall fell. Everyone was selling bananas. They’d just come on the market again. There was a reason you hadn’t been able to get a banana in Poland short of selling your daughter’s virginity to the Cuban embassy for some time but I forget what it was. Collapse of a sweetheart deal with Cuba maybe? Something like that.
Anyway, you know what gets me about these images of Comrade Kim looking at things? They remind me of pictures of Prince Charles looking at things. You’ve got that same gormless, “Why am I here, what the Devil is it?” look about the images. Apparently Comrade Kim’s “Happy Place” is watching DVDs in his private cinema with a large scotch*. I dunno where Prince Charles’ “Happy Place” is but it certainly isn’t anything public is it? But then there is an essential tension here. Two very private individuals are also inveterate sticky-beaks. It must torture them so. Charles clearly would love to be popular but just isn’t. I’m sure he envies the genuine popularity of his son(s). For all her many failings Diana clearly did a number with the kids despite the House of Windsor.
Anyway enjoy Kim looking at things and hope that one day soon whilst looking into a cement mixer he has an unfortunate slip… As to Charles… Wouldn’t he be happier tending an organic small-holding in Gloucestershire with Camilla by his side in a sort of C21st version of the Good Life with Andy and Fergie as the ersatz Jerry and Margot digging them out of the manure every so often?
*For some reason I see him as more the sort who goes for luxury blended rather than a single malt. There is something rather ’70s about him isn’t there? I can really see him with a 25 year old Chivas Regal watching “The Good, the Bad and the Ugly”.
Issued to celebrate the forthcoming wedding of His Royal Highness Prince William of Wales to Catherine Elizabeth Middleton, this limited edition Commemorative Royal Wedding Ring is cast in a deep royal blue silicone and features a delightful raised motif reminiscent of crowns of regency past. Rejoice in a very special union of your own.
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This limited edition commemorative love ring can be yours, exclusively at Lovehoney.
PS. For some reason I can’t link directly but it is there if you scroll down a bit. Not safe for work.
My wife is a republican. This does not mean she is a member of the party of Lincoln or Reagan. No, she dislikes (to put it mildly) the Royal Family of this country. I have a rather more nuanced view which mainly amounts to believing the heir to the throne is just a cunning stunt.
Mainly because he is.
So this story comes as a bit of a surprise.
A Mexican teenager is staging a hunger strike outside the British Embassy in Mexico City in a bizarre attempt to secure an invitation to the wedding of Prince William and Kate Middleton.
Now not long since I caused a minor storm here – winding up some “traditionalists” – by saying the ban on night-time weddings in this country was both silly and sinister. Their argument of course was roughly about the idea that a wedding has to be public. Maybe they had a point. I think though this Mexican teenager is stretching that point to breaking. The last envelope I had through the door on Her Majesty’s Service was not an invitation to Will and Kate’s nuptials. It might have involved a blacksmith in Gretna but only if my tackle was on the anvil. Or fucking else!
Obviously Estibalis Chavez was clearly horrendously over-looked for an invite to the nuptials of Wills and Kate but then I don’t recall sending her an invite to my wedding either.
“Are they going to let me die just because they wouldn’t give me an invitation to the royal wedding?” Miss Chavez wrote on one of the flyers she has plastered near the entrance to the colonial-style building.
“This is my only dream,” read another flyer next to a picture of the smiling royal couple who will marry at Westminster Abbey on April 29.
The only Mexican I have ever known particularly well was an incredibly smart PhD student in mathematical logic. I guess if you got a population north of the 100million mark they can’t all be straight-A students. Gabriella clearly was and Establis very clearly isn’t.
Miss Chavez, wearing braces, pigtails and glasses, said the late Princess Diana had inspired her campaign.
The case for the prosecution rests.
“My mother was a big fan of Lady Di too and she died when I was born, so I promised myself I would attend her son’s wedding,” added Miss Chavez, who has also taken her cause to the Facebook social networking site.
I’m a bit vague here as to who died when Ms Chavez was born. Either way it’s somewhat lame. And as to taking her “case” to the high court of social networking…
I got an email from Facebook today. It was about “International Talk Like a Geordie Day”. I have no idea why I got this because being from Gateshead it comes quite naturally in much the same way that couples in London don’t tend to invite random Mexican teenagers to their wedding.
“The embassy could talk to Britain for me but they haven’t,” she said. “But I’m going to stay here until I can’t go on.”
Oh, Lordy! It’s like that scene in Apollo 13 where Jim Lovell is about to go to the Moon and his daughter won’t leave her room because the Beatles have split up. It’s like when the lasses at my school weeped, wailed, rended their denim shirts, threw down their neckerchiefs and removed the Grolsch tops from their shoes (their abysmal plight was ultimately mitigated by the potent drug known as “Ben & Jerry’s”) when Bros split up. Yeah, Bros – that trio of profound Leo Sayers*. Mass Hass! Mass fucking hysteria more like. You didn’t get me doing that when Newcastle got relegated.
And no, that is not because I’m a geezer. And no it’s not because they are teenage girls though frankly I have my suspicions on that score but purely because there is at least one half-wit born every minute and a lot of them seemed to have vaginas and many of those went to my school.
*And Gods I had to go through that period drama again when Take That imploded. And I have it on sound authority that at least three of those heart-throbs (including Robbie Williams – who is camper than a row of tents in Elton John’s garden) prefer the tradesman’s entrance of the gentleman so what the fuck they were bitching about God in his Heaven alone knows.