290411 : None of my Heroes Ain't Appeared on no Stamp

A ROYAL WEDDING SPECIAL EDITION

On the 29^th April 2011, the son of a family of slightly-inbred superrich toffs, and a girl from the middle-classes – a hybrid of bluestocking and blue WKD – will marry. And it appears that the Eton-educated pillock who married an affluent heiress and became Prime Minister has decided that we all get the day off to watch the extravagant nuptials on the telly. Well fuck that.

The groom genuinely believes that God – that well-known, affable and personable being of scientifically twin-studied double-blind-tested proven existence – has given him the divine right to rule, unelected and undeniable. Albeit, only after his Nan, and then his Dad, die.

I mean, it’s hard enough to justify the belief in this 'God' that many have ‘faith’ in. But that God has decided for the people of the United Kindom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, that after revolutions, wars, invasions, porphyria, haemophilia, succession acts, not allowing females to take the crown, then allowing females to take the crown, locking kids in towers, sympathizing with the Nazis, murdering wives, getting cross with the Pope and the idea / fact that we’re only one lightning strike away from John Goodman becoming king, that this William fella was the one that He up in Heaven has predestined to be King - well that takes more suspension of disbelief and literary conceit than a shit science fiction novel.

I’m sure I wouldn’t be so cross and angry if he really was just a token figure head, but constitutionally, despite the separation of powers we have achieved over the years, he will still be the person who signs the bills, the acts, the laws. He’s hardly going to sign his own Eviction of Office notice, is he?

And the amount of money we, the public, have to fork out for the Old Dear, her casually-racist consort, the twice-married philandering heir, the divorced-daughter, the son who is a friend of a paedophile and all sorts of military juntas, and the son who has failed in every career apart from cashing-in on his name, and all their assorted ex-wives and drunken-children; well that amount of money could be so much better spent.

Of course, we should remember, that God says they can be Royal. And as such, we should give them our money so they can enjoy their lives. Although, wouldn’t it be fair if they kept their nose in their bibles, their cocks in their pants, their mouths shut and their hands out of the till? That would also be what God wants, wouldn’t it? Oh, what's it called, now? Yep, being a good Christian.

I only need a pittance to survive each year, according to my employers. So why do the Mountbatten-Windsor’s need so much from the ‘civil list’ each year, when they could just sell a painting or two?

Don’t worry, though. I’m a pacifist. I’m not off on some Guy Fawkesian mission. In fact, I’ll be happily in work on this prescribed day off. But I wish that they would do the good, honest thing and dissolve the monarchy and fuck off to Las Vegas, and run their pathetic side-show in the new ‘Buck House’ hotel and casino complex.

I wish.