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Buckinghamwood, Or: Dumberello And The Little Screen Princess

The news that a famous celebrity (the actress) is marrying a B-listed minor personage, most famous good-for-nothing in the Realm and the fifth (soon the sixth) in line to the utterly useless throne of England is making waves in old Blighty.

A divorced actress (isn't it romantic?! “Until Filing does us part!”) is about to marry a man known for being rather thick, and whose main claims to celebrity are the funeral of his very slutty mother and the scandal of not having been able to even dirty a canvas with an “abstract painting” for one graduation or other, dirtying for which the poor genius had to be, astonishingly, helped without telling anyone (which is, as everybody knows, cheating and rigging even in so stupid a matter; can't remember if the teacher lost her job, he certainly lost his face).

This is going to be another field day – or rather, field years – for the gutter press, as the marriage of TV Stardom and Royal Dumbness promises to fill millions of pages as the rumours, indiscretions, half truths and full lies start to pile up after the obligatory romance of The Beauty And The Dumbo. I can't wait for the one or other to appear in the one or other reality show for the culturally challenged, then the descent of this once prestigious monarchy into mere entertainment factor for the uneducated will be completed.

I often think of the British Monarchy as the same as the Church of England. Both totally useless, they survive because the British can't even be bothered to notice the latter or to realise the superfluousness of the former (excluding tourism money and entertainment factor). The Monarchy, supposedly the Defenders Of The Faith, has accompanied the country all the way to Tranniedom without as much as a peep, but with a lot of Pump and Circumstance. The so-called “c”hurch of England…

but you know that already.

Both institutions now decrepit, and waiting to die, for which these old eyes will not shed a single tear.

One day the Church of England will be simply abolished and no one will even notice.

One day the abolition of the Monarchy will be proposed, and the only question will be the loss of tourism revenue, or the appalling prospect of having millions of uneducated nincompoops having to talk about the weather even more.

We live in a time where entertainment is king. Dumberello is about to marry his Little Screen Princess.

Buckinghamwood is now our reality.

M

 

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