Journey through space to the Planet Fabulous, where the Ruler of the Universe will see you shortly.

Thursday, November 20, 2003

Peasant Touches Queen. Not.

There’s not much that gets me enraged, but consider my dander up at the moment.

This ‘news’ story about the journalist getting into the palace for two months has riled me. Now, my memory’s not what it could be, so correct me if not. But there was a statement by the press not six years ago just after Diana’s death saying that the press would not interfere with the royal family, and stop the non-stories and scandals totally. I do believe that this breaches that.

I’m not a huge fan of the Royals: as far as I see it, she’s just a rival queen with better jewellery. When it comes to authority, they were castrated by government years ago, leaving them reduced to opening supermarkets like ex Eastenders cast members. Yet I can see their value to tourism, and it’s fun to suppose what they get up to behind closed doors. But when someone gets there, looks around someone’s room and takes a photo of where the Queen has breakfast - well, where’s the news in that? It’s just shoddy.

Thus I refuse to read this nonsense, so I don’t know the ins and outs of it all. All I know was looking over someone’s shoulder last night, seeing caption after caption of ‘Royal Bedchamber: I could have easily have messed up the pillows before the queen arrived’. Therefore I gather that the cover of today’s Mirror, with this journalist crouched next to some dogs implies that he could quite clearly have taped a bomb to the underside of the queen’s corgi.

It’s a complete non-story, full of supposition. Oh, what’s the other major thing we’ve discovered in this breach? The queen has Tupperware. I’ve been discussing it with my favourite ex Richard. “Do you think she has Tupperware parties?” he pondered. You know, I’d like to think so.

And that Margaret would have definitely organised an Ann Summers.

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