mrs proudie
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‘This is a royal wedding for our times, so jolly good luck to them both’

Royal Wedding Edition

Goodness!

Such excitement! Such splendour!

We certainly know how to do pomp and circumstance in this country, as I am sure you will agree, and what could be more pompful and circumstantial than a royal wedding! A dashing, handsome prince marries the fragrant poledancer who stole his heart – it is a story straight from the pages of Hans Christian Andersen, akin to ‘The Real Princess’, ‘The Little Mermaid’, and ‘The Shepherdess and the Chimney Sweep’, only with silicone implants.

Here in Barchester we bask in what can only be described as ‘Markle Sparkle’.  We have draped everything in red, white and blue, including the Archdeacon. A parade has been organised which will wind its way through our ancient medieval streets, stopping a while before the Great West Door of the Cathedral to allow my Lord the Bishop and Dean Trefoil to mumble a few words, then on down to Hey-Nonny-No Meadow by the banks of the River Bar for a celebratory cream tea, served by the Old Gentlemen from Hiram’s Hospital in their State Woolcarders attire. The Band of the Royal Barset Inland Waterways Rapid Defence Force will play selections from Mr. Lloyd-Webber’s renowned light opera ‘The Merry Madness of May’, and as a special tribute there will be synchronised cotton-picking in Farmer Dung’s Five Acre Field.

We were hoping the newly-weds would be created Duke and Duchess of Barset. The title has been dormant since the death of Lionel de Mountshaft, 4th Duke of Barset, at the Battle of Dimwit’s End in the mid-1400s when a stray crossbow bolt flew straight up his arquebus causing a lethal backfire. But, alas, the Duke and Duchess of Sussex it is.

There are those who hold their noses at a prince marrying an American, with some being terribly unkind about her mixed ethnicity, but I won’t hear of it. In any case, there just aren’t that many real princesses around these days, what with one revolution after another. No, this is a royal wedding for our times, so jolly good luck to them both.

Now, what else has been happening…

Ah yes…

The Four Horsemen of the Europocalypse – M. Macron, Frau Merkel, Herr Juncker and the Verhuffenpuff creature – have been using some tough language recently. They demand, they threaten, they declare they ‘will not tolerate’ any Euro nation refusing to accept their ‘fair share’ of migrants, pointing their skeletal fingers towards Warsaw and Budapest in a sort of ‘naming and shaming’ gesture. Thankfully Mr. Orban is quite capable of giving a gesture of his own in response. Really, the arrogance of these people is beyond belief. If they do carry out their threat to cut off the money supply there really is no incentive for the Poles and Hungarians to stay members of the club.

The Archdeacon is particularly thrilled by the new Risorgimento in Italy, which sees an anti-EU coalition in power, threatening to sweep away the old ways of doing things and starting afresh.

“Splendid news, just splendid, dear lady… or should I say splendifico!!! This Salvini fellow has a touch of the Garibaldis about him and no mistake. As soon as the ships start returning the African gondoliers to their homelands, other countries will surely follow. It only takes one bolter to start off a stampede. With any luck that old fool in the Vatican will get his marching orders too.”

“I doubt that very much,” I replied, “I am no friend to the Bishop of Rome, but there’s no winkling him out of his walled fiefdom. No government would dare.”

“I suppose not,” agreed the Archdeacon, reluctantly.

I see history is being re-written in Germany, where the good burghers are being told Islam is thoroughly Teutonic and its presence in the Fatherland is older than the Oktoberfest. Frau Merkin believes Islam is part of Germany and Germany belongs to Islam, or something like that, which only proves you can take the girl out of the Stasi but you can’t take the Stasi out of the girl. However, three quarters of those Germans polled disagree with her: their re-education is already being scheduled.

Strength through Joy…

Calling our politicians ‘stupid’ is of course the right of every true-born Englishman or woman (or LGBGTQWERTY or… or… etc) but one does not expect the Speaker of the House of Commons to use such language against an honourable member. Whether or not Mr. Bercow called Mrs. Leadsom ‘stupid’ or not is being disputed, but the Poisoned Dwarf of Politics with his Long-legged Liability of a wife and penchant for anti-Conservative manoeuvring and politically correct polemics is an absolute disgrace and should go.

I see Sheffield has followed in the footsteps of Barchester and has elected a Muslim Lord Mayor. The Sheffield mayor says he thinks the Monarchy is outdated and “…would not toast the Queen.” He comes from Somalia.

Is the Monarchy any more outdated than sub-Saharan tribalism?

My blood boils.

Well, that’s it for now, my dears. I am getting very excited about the royal nuptials and need to untangle the bunting. So, as the mantle of a thousand years of history is thrust into the tumble drier of progressive neo-liberal globalist relativism and the garden shears of hope are blunted on the whetstone of post-democratic bureaucracy, I bid you adieu.

God Save the Queen.

PS Please pray for Sheffield.