The Royal Wedding – by John Robb
It’s not that anyone begrudges the ”Ëroyal wedding’.
They seem like perfectly nice people for Royals – oddly human and quite sweet as the fumble in front of the cameras.
Lovely jubbly! They are in love and getting married. Good on ”Ëem.
But I’m bored of it already.
I turned on the news and it went on. And on. And on – about the wedding. The whole fookin’ news dedicated to a young couple getting married. Suddenly the endless wars, the recession, the ConDem savage cuts, the government with a sneer and the whole ugly world seemed to dissolve in front of my eyes.
Good stuff. If only we could live in a Disneyland where people getting married was the only thing going on. That would make life easier. People fucking each other is the greatest thing in the world and we should endlessly celebrate it. But, when they are not fucking, people are making a right old mess of things, and the wedding gives the mainstream media a chance to sweep it all under the carpet.
Nick Clegg must be the most relieved man on the planet, one minute he’s the most reviled man in the UK, who blatantly lied to get into power, and the next he’s hiding behind ”Ëthe greatest love story of the century’. A pause before he sticks his expensive boot into everyone again readying himself for jumping the sinking LibDem ship for a job with the Tories.
The Royal Wedding is a very modern wedding. It’s the first X Factor wedding. Cheryl Cole will be blubbing crocodile tears and Simon Cowell will organise the ceremony, Dermot O’Thingy will interview the Royal couple as they walk up the aisle and the public will get to vote on it. They will then find themselves on the dole being called scroungers after the cuts have taken their jobs during the wedding.
The PR mob are running around making sure it’s not as wooden and cardboard as Chas and Di’s fumbling betrothal and they have been helped by the fact that the couple don’t seem to be the normal freaks presented for this kind of event.
I got lost in the love landslide and I’ve already forgotten about the cuts and I’m happy that we are ”Ëall in it together’, the Royal Wedding is another chance for David ”Ëcarryon’ Cameron to be just like the rest of us and get his personal photographer to snap away and his personal film-maker to film a right royal blog, and for his limo to be cleaned and readied to follow his bike on the big day – the same goes for the rest of us because this being ”Ëall in it together’ thing means that we get to have all these kind of things at our disposal, and if you want a lift in my Limo to the wedding just email.
People keep asking me to go on the radio and explain where the great pop riposte to all this is. ”ËThe worst recession for years,’ they ask ”Ëwhere is the pop?’ They expect some sort of Sex Pistols moment, and surely there are people trying their best to pull off that ”ËGod Save The Queen’ moment, but those were innocent days in the seventies, days when people would get offended by such stuff and everyone cared what was in the charts. Music is so fractured now that no one even knows what number one is. Bamboozled by the tidal wave of culture there is no central theme and a Sex Pistols moment would be met with a shrug of the shoulders and forgotten about with a Strictly- Cum-Dancing- X- Factor slump in front of the TV.ÃÂ Simon Cowell now owns you and you have no choice but to coo and sob at his soap opera as his serfs get a chance to be humiliated on national TV.
The Royal Wedding fits snugly into this new consensus. This is 21st century UK ”Ëin touch with its emotions’ as long as they are live on TV. The Royals, like taxes, will be with us forever and we are forever in their debt. Quite literally.
I don’t begrudge the wedding; let them have their fun, but anyone who wants it should pay for it. The royal family should be something that you subscribe to and pay for if you’re a fan, after all that’s how the rest of pop culture works – You want it? You pay for it.
Maybe they could married on X factor and everyone cheers as Cheryl mimes in front of them.