So, yeah, we messed up. We didn't win and we were never likely to. But you know what, it doesn't matter. Why? Because democracy is all a load of piss. Who needs democracy when you've got an unelected head of state whose family are all (even the racist husband, even the son who talks to trees) perfect role models, paragons of human virtue and quite probably direct descendants of God himself. And, get this, their current darling, the flawless new addition to the family, is not only (to quote one happy party-goer interviewed on BBC news on the morning of the royal wedding) 'fitter than Cheryl Cole', she also DOES HER OWN SHOPPING. Fuck yes. This is what the front page of my new favourite newspaper told me today. The Duchess of Cambridge buys her Jerusalem artichokes and her cat litter in a supermarket for toffs. And we should all feel better for it.
Now there are many reasons why this story is laughable. Firstly, there's the hypocrisy. There are people across the country - including many in the 'middle England' demographic so prized by the Daily Mail - currently struggling to keep their jobs or facing wage cuts as a result of a government (made up for the most part of people who are no strangers to inherited wealth) that has seen fit to compromise equality by making knee-jerk cuts. And here we are being conned into thinking that all is rosy because a girl who has just made it big by marrying into inherited wealth can push her own shopping trolley.
Secondly, there's the hypocrisy. Again. The same newspaper that was only a few days ago telling us how pretty Kate looked having slimmed down to fit into her wedding dress is now celebrating - really, truly celebrating - the fact that she is buying a shitload of food.
Thirdly, well, it's the whole fucking circus isn't it. I had no real opinion either way on the royals before this wedding. In fact, I still have no opinion, just a physical reaction that is a strange combination of nausea and pity. The pity is for the family themselves - possibly, just possibly, some of them aren't wankers - and for the droves of people who actually felt better about themselves after staying in on a nice sunny day to watch the wedding. And maybe the pity is threefold. Maybe there is an element of self-pity here too. Maybe I wish I could have enjoyed myself, felt a part of it, smothered myself in red, white and blue jelly. But no, I hated every frigging minute of it. And I know for a fact I would have hated it even more if I had tried to enjoy it, if I had indulged in the street-parties, the plastic hats, the whole spit-roast.
What, then, have I done today in defiance of the Mail's royal sycophancy? Well, two things actually. The first, least important thing was becoming a proper, card-carrying republican. Yes, I'm off the fence. I no longer agree with the existence of the royal family.
But crucially, I didn't go to Waitrose. Oddly enough, I had actually planned to. I was going to go to Marlborough (where, incidentally, Kate went to toff school), and whenever I'm in Marlborough I always go to Waitrose, because I like their olives and thier support of local charities. But today stayed in Swindon and went to Sainsbury's. I've eaten shit fishcakes. I've given nothing to charity. I feel good about myself.
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