Why I'm Drawing a Blank over the Royal Wedding
Since the engagement of Prince Harry to Meghan Markle, a number of people have shrieked about how I must be sooo excited about the royal wedding, and that I must be just dying to write about it! ‘Err…. sure?!’ I halfheartedly reply whilst silently wondering if they have forgotten that it is also, more importantly, my birthday that day.
Since then, I have felt a mounting pressure to come up with an original and hilarious angle to cover this historical event. I find myself googling #royalwedding at every opportunity. Not because I am wetting my pants with excitement, but because I can’t think of a bloody word to say about it.
So, in order to spare you from some truly mediocre word-vomit, I am instead going to tell you why I am not going to write about it. Steady.
I am no wedding expert (don’t tell anyone), and even if I claimed to be, this is not going to be like any wedding that the likes of you and I will ever see first-hand (assuming that you are also not invited). I could very easily bang out some tips to help Meghan calm her trembling buttocks (a problem I suffered with myself), or make helpful suggestions on the best way to deal with a self-obsessed bridesmaid (Princess Charlotte, we hear, is being a total nightmare), but frankly I don’t think necking a bottle of Prosecco in both those scenarios is advice that she will heed. Something tells me that as a professional actress, humanitarian and feminist she doesn’t really need to Borrow this Bride.
I find it all a bit boring. Who’s doing the flowers?? Who made the cake?? Oh some hugely talented (and eye-wateringly expensive) people that I have never heard of?? Bothered. When you’re in the fourth division and they’re in the premier league it’s hard to get excited.
The most exciting bit will be nosing at the celebs invited and wondering how the heck they got in that inner circle. Not to mention having a good nose at what everyone is wearing, mainly Eugenie and Beatrice, they have shown form in the past. Sadly, I do not have the inside scoop on these people. I am, however, pretty confident that no one on Saturday will eclipse the jaw-dropping site of Pippa Middleton’s (now famously) splendid bottom.
There are too many people writing either ludicrously fluffy or inconceivably horrible things in equal measure already. I don’t want to do either. Tackling from a funny angle had some appeal and felt the most appropriate for this blog, but everything written in my head has teetered dangerously close to being mean to either the happy couple or their families. I am nothing if not principled! The only person I would feel truly comfortable mocking is The Donald, and he’s not even invited.
Did I mention it’s my birthday? Good god, I don't need another excuse to crack open the bubbly at lunchtime and spend Sunday wondering how I got in the following kind of state...