Royal Wedding is the Dog’s Bollocks!

TWO kisses! What will the Queen say this time? And what's that girl on the left smelling?

“Dog’s bollocks” are a good thing, in case you’re American.  Two good things, actually, if you’re the dog.

We’re all a bit British today, watching the blushing bride make her way down the Westminster Abbey aisle to meet her dashing groom. The pomp and flourish and princes and princesses and throngs of adoring peasants and more tradition than the opening number of “Fiddler On the Roof”. There were two kisses on the balcony this time, up from the one scandalous liplock between Chuck and Di. Will tried to hang in there a little too long during the second one, which I’m sure will be the cause of much speculation about the future of their life together. By the next royal wedding there will be three kisses, two with tongue, and by the one after that public fornication while the RAF flies overhead and the crowd roots for a winner.

The Queen was a vision in yellow, looking nearly twenty years less than her age of two hundred and eighty-four. And her mother lived longer. Prince Charles has been waiting for the old gal to kick so he could be King since he was a teenager and now he’s deeply into his sixties. Still has more hair than William. Point is, it will never, ever happen. She’ll never die. She’ll bury them all. Charles, his pet Afgan—I mean wife, Will, Kate, that weird-looking redheaded guy…she’ll bury them all. Queen Mum lived through the Paleolithic Age and she just died, like, last week. At least they think, nobody has checked the casket lately.

Just think of all the scandal the poor old Queen has had to deal with since the last big royal wedding. You had that whole Fergie mess, that ended up with a divorce and some toe-sucking on a beach in the Mediterranean. Then she got—hold on to your crumpets—a talk show! You had the whole Prince Charles-tampon thing, with the whole divorcing Princess Di thing tangled in its…um…string. Then after the paparazzi went and ran poor Diana off the road, you had that whole backlash against Elizabeth about how little public remorse she was showing. To add to the abashment, they made a TV MOVIE about the whole thing. The shame, the ignominy! In the US, a BJ in the White House warrants a disapproving look. In England, they gave the old woman grief for not getting on her knees and wailing at the gravestone of her ex-daughter-in-law, who she never liked very much to begin with. After eons of stiff upper lipness, they wanted a little emotion. Tough crowd, those Brits.

Sir Elton John was there, which Mary El thought was in bad taste since there really should only be one queen at a royal wedding.

Everyone who was anyone was there, actually, in terms of royalty.  The kings and queens and princes and princesses of every sovereign nation and country rich people send their money to so they can avoid paying taxes on it. The whole of Europe’s politically irrelevant. Great families and heritages that have been diluted by interbreeding and titles sold to the highest bidder and just plain ugliness. But, hey, every guy looks good in a penguin suit, and while the same may not always be said of the grande dames in their dresses, at least they keep their hats low. Let’s face it, the Middleton family (Kate, Mom and Sis) provided the majority of the female talent, if we’re going to be crass about it. It can safely be said it was the first time since 1100 that three attractive women stood on that Buckingham Palace balcony at the same time. The royal women through the years have been staunch, indomitable, bastions of English strength and grace under pressure. Pretty they ain’t.

All in all a fairy tale for every burgeoning young girl or homosexual boy to remember and relive in HD for years and years to come. There were no rude noises at inappropriate times, Harry didn’t try to light a fart or something like that, and Kate and the gaggle of kids behind her made it down the aisle without tripping or picking their noses. No rain, trees grew indoors, God Himself seemed to be watching with approval. Subtle it’s not, but certainly dignified and absolute catnip for those wonderful Brits who give us so much superior acting, television and filmmaking. God save the Queen! Just not too much longer so poor Charles can get a shot.

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