A woman who works for a clothes shop marries an anachronistic parasite and sooner or later, as if by magic, she’ll be the Queen. Of my country. Remarkable.
Labour truly mastered that social mobility brief, didn’t they?
This could truly be the bleakest winter in a long time. The media dribble, the imbecilic cooing women, the deluded fat men, sat in pubs droning on about what they’d do to ‘her’ and the jokes about queening.
The burial of bad news, the uniquely obsequious BBC coverage, the pissing of our stolen money right in our faces to pay for lavish events for the politicos and the slebs.
Seriously, for whom is this inevitable pantomime a good thing? It certainly won’t help my blood pressure.
I hope Twitter agrees on a hashtag soon, so I can block it.