Generally speaking, I don't have much time for the Royal Family.
I don't wish them dead on a spike, or any other sort of personal harm, but I could live without the drain on the taxpayer (who, if memory serves, directly provides at least two of the five main sources of the Windsors' mammoth annual income).
I could live without seeing them float between their many opulent residences. I could live without hearing about how wonderful this old woman is because, oh look, she visited a hospital for half an hour and smiled half-heartedly at a sick little boy who's probably going to die because his parents can't afford to go private, yet the jewels in her personal collection could fund three billion brain operations and still have change left over.
What of the junior doctor standing next to her who's worked a 72-hour shift, saved the kid's life three times over and is about to drop on his feet, just as soon as he's overseen the installation of a new brand toilet so the Queen doesn't have to feel the unpleasant warmth from someone else's arse cheeks, should she need to take a tinkle during her brief visit? Oh, no one cares about him because he's not Royalty. We all want to coo over the staggering courage of an elderly multi-millionaire who has lived her entire life in luxury and privilege and never done a day's work since the moment she plopped into the midwife's pan, yet has still managed to endure the hardship of a short journey in her chauffeur-driven Jag and fifteen minutes of glad-handing the riff raff. Ma'am, where would we be without you?
I could live without knowing the Queen has power of veto over the Government's plans if she really wanted to flex it, because in what is undoubtedly the world's leading democracy (yeah America, I said it) a ceremonial role which can actually make decisions on important stuff like who's going to run the country is pretty ludicrous.
Most of all, the thing that absolutely offends me - in that real, grating, soul-aching way that only happens when you're properly pissed off, like REALLY pissed off - is the bowing and scraping, the insufferable pomposity of people not being permitted to speak before the Queen does; of not being allowed to walk down a corridor that she's due to infest at any moment, lest the presence of another human being should cause her little blue blood vessels to burst with indignation. The suggestion that if you are not 'of the aristocracy', whatever the hell that means, you are not fit to command the attention of this very ordinary old lady and her spawn, regardless of whether you want it or not, is just incomprehensible to me.
How stuffy and ridiculous life must be for staff at Buckingham Palace is just beyond my wildest facilities of imagination. And for what? An accident of birth, that's what. She accidentally got born to a particular guy, who was only where he was because one day, many centuries ago, one bloke probably cut another bloke's head off and nabbed the crown, sticking his tongue out and shouting 'I'm the king of the castle!' And just like that, he was.
So yeah, I'm not the biggest Royalist you'll ever come across. And when the tremendous broo-ha-ha about Prince William's impending nuptials to Kate Middleton kicked off, I could not have been less interested. The bank holiday was a bonus, but it was hardly going to be the heart-warming festival of joy that everyone kept promising. Above all else, I just felt a crushing sense of sorrow for the poor girl.
When I've revealed this to people, they've practically choked on the words as they've tried to remind me that she's marrying into staggering wealth and comfort, with not a financial care ever again, as long as she doesn't do a Fergie. Any children she has won't have to lift a finger in this life either and that's got to be a nice thought to keep you warm in bed at night.
But I'll tell you what - rather her than me. I wouldn't trade places with Princess Catherine even for all those millions that will be cushioning her from now on. Imagine it - she'll now have surrendered her privacy forever. She's got the Queen as her grandmother (I'm sure she's a barrel of laughs once you get the karaoke out but come on dear, smile!!!), she'll be absorbed into all that soul-destroying rhubarb of pomp and circumstance that surrounds the Royals and, worst of all, she'll have to go to church EVERY CHRISTMAS DAY. Ugh, makes my blood run cold.
But you know what? Even with all this back catalogue of slightly sour feeling towards the Royals, I enjoyed the wedding. I actually thought it was rather nice. Because although it was all hideously overblown, as the day approached, I found myself being drawn into the patriotic feeling of celebration. I planted a red, white and blue hanging basket without a thought. I actually felt a pang of regret that I had to work and couldn't join the crowds in London. And - don't tell anyone I said this, but - I even shed a little involuntary tear when Prince William turned to see his bride for the first time and evidently told her she looked beautiful.
Because at the end of the day, these were still two young people getting married. Pledging to spend their lives together. Unlike Wills' parents - who had reportedly only met 13 times before the big day and were more manufactured than Ken and Barbie - these two had known each other for ten years and the genuine intimacy was clear in their warm glances, their little shared jokes, the glimpsed holding of hands in the carriage when they had a brief respite from the endless waving. This was real. I hope for their sakes they are truly in love but either way, there seems to be a friendship there and hey, that's better than nothing.
And Kate did look absolutely stunning. She looked every inch the princess and I actually felt excited for her and Wills as they rode off towards Buck House, the good will and affection from the thousands gathered along the route being palpable, even through the television. Even if the tide of public opinion turns against the new Duke and Duchess of Cambridge, as it inevitably will, at least no one can take this day, and those wonderful moments, away from them. Nor from the crowds and the people watching across the globe, for whom I really believe the Royal wedding was a festival of joy after all.
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