Friday, April 29, 2011


Maybe I’m Nuts…but…now that the whoo ha and the froo fra over Kate marrying the Poo Bah is over, it’s high time to examine what took place in merry olde England. 
For weeks, we in the states (and I imagine the world over) have been regaled with the run up to the event with swirling speculation (and a fair amount of side betting) concerning what the bride would be wearing…would the vows contain the word “obey”…where exactly the nuptials would take place and no doubt…would Harry be half in the bag before the whole blooming thing got started?

Most important things first…It’s ALWAYS difficult to tell if Harry is hammered or not so I’ll just go out on a royal limb here and say…YEP!

It’s hard to believe that the happy couple has actually been an item for 10 years…ever since the first time Prince William (Bill….his friends call him) set eyes on Kate. She (then just 19 years old) was strutting the fashion runway as a lingerie model. Love at first leer.

They did break up at one point until clearly, one of Williams mates slapped him upside the head and without doubt uttered…”Dude” which of course brought him to his senses and they quickly reunited.

The wedding itself, a quiet little affair, attended by a million or so in the streets of London (as there was no cricket match to watch) who’s clamoring and cheering was finally drowned by a cacophony of deafening bells at the Abby upon Kate’s arrival. The bells were subsequently drowned out by the ever so LOUD ticking of HER biological clock. Some of the side betting, as I understand it, revolves like a roulette wheel around the date of the delivery (by royal post surely) of their first (possible) heir to the throne. In that respect, I believe the Brits have COMPLETELY LOST THEIR COLLECTIVE MINDS!!! Good grief…Isn’t there ENOUGH pressure on these people? TO BET ON SOMETHING LIKE THAT…is…JUST DISGUSTING!

I have a hundred bucks on February 18th 2012 at 8:17pm London time…

Anyway…back to the dog and pony show…
The guest list for this event was…odd. The embassador from Syria HAD been invited but…with just a couple of days to go…DISinvited because his country’s government was shooting at their own people in the streets. That’ll teach em. The Beckhams were there and why that’s a big deal I’ll never know. Of course Charles and “the other woman” the Dutchess of Cornhole (Wall…I MEANT CORNWALL) occupied seats. A few heads of state (who’s governments were NOT engaged in shooting their own peasents) a smattering of celebrities and snobs also watched from audience. Probably the most obtuse and noticeable thing about the guest list was the fact that there were no Obami (the obvious plural of Obama) invited but…MR. BEAN WAS!!!

I found it interesting that between the two, 6 of their ex hook ups were invited making it difficult to figure out whether they’re still friendly or if this was a neener neener moment.

The best line uttered by the Proctor (or whoever that was in the big pointy hat) who officiated at the ceremony was, “Do not be haughty rather, associate with the lowly.”

I’m sure THAT will make the lowly feel MUCH better about their lot.

As soon as the I Do’s were done, Bill and Kate made tracks for the back room, away from prying cameras, to…”Sign the Registry” which (I suppose) is what the kids are calling these days. In the OLD DAYS I believe it was referred to as…”Polishing the Royal Scepter” but I digress…

Then it was off to the Palace and their first kiss (yeah right) from the balcony while the Royal Air Force performed not one but two flyovers  in front of a cheering crowd of the afore mentioned lowly who were clearly as excited about a 4 day weekend as they were to have been not invited to the wedding itself
To be fair, the most AMAZING part of this whole thing was the sheer fact that I got up at 2 o’clock in the BLOODY MORNING to watch the damn thing in the first place so that I could give you the most comprehensive recap of the BLOODY THING you’ll read all day!

I guess I can understand all the whoopty do in the long run as after all, the British only get to line the streets, catch a glimpse of “royalty,” wondering what she’ll be wearing on her “special” day, conjecturing in whispers about whether or not she’ll arrive on time and leave with a smile on her face once every 25 or 30 years.

In OUR country WE get to participate in such an event every 3 or 4 months…when Lindsey Lohan goes to court.

Or…Maybe I’m nuts.

I’m Craig Andresen

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