The excitement is building. The tiaras are being dusted off. The red, white and blue wigs are being pulled out from the backs of cupboards.
Our street is preparing for a party. We finally found an excuse for a neighbourly shindig. It’s… ah… it’ll come to me…
No doubt there’ll be a fair amount of royal-related tat on display. Our mugs from China arrived broken – so they’ll not do as prizes. But do you think them smashing in transit is a bad omen for the royal couple? Or are the bad vibes mitigated by the fact they showed a picture of Harry, not Wills, cosying up to Kate. Maybe it was for the best that the wrong brother and the bride-to-be were sundered.
Not everyone on the road is happy about the party. As one bloke quite reasonably asked – how can you claim to believe in a meritocratic society and celebrate the royal family? He’s threatening to clamber on to his roof and repel royal lovers by any means necessary. I don’t rate his chances. His partner’s already on board with the party. And he’ll be a prime candidate for the stocks – no rotten fruit and veg though, just sponges.
But should his outburst make me feel uncomfortable? Well, on the one hand I agree with him. What on earth is a republican (in a French or Irish sense rather than American) like me doing instigating a street party to mark a royal wedding? What a hypocrite!
Ah just hang on. It’s neighbourly. It’s a party. Those trump ideology. And in my defence, I’m subtly subverting any loyal aspects by ensuring the draft ale is from a brewery called Rebellion. (Check out their Prenuptu-Ale brewed – or perhaps more accurately – branded – for the wedding.) OK, as gestures go, my rebellion is quite subtle indeed.
So the beer is in. The public address system is ordered. The temporary tattoos have arrived. The bunting is ready. All we need is a themed fridge to keep the drink cold. (Can you imagine the embarrassment if you were discovered to actually have one of those in your kitchen.)
Perhaps they’ll be able to compromise on this royally adjusted version of Lady Gaga‘s Bad Romance. It’s by a bunch of fellas at St Andrews University (where Kate and Wills met) who call themselves The Other Guys, and muse about what might have been.
So – it’s happening the day after tomorrow. Are we missing anything?
No… Should be alright – as long as we don’t get the traditional weather (no rain please) and she says yes.
(By the way Fergie, if you’re reading this – I hear you may not be at the ceremony itself, so you’re welcome to join us. Even though you’re not from the street. But don’t come empty handed, eh? Bring a bottle.)