The cost of a royal wedding

The answer is simple; my finger must have slipped and I knocked out a full paragraph. That’s technology for you. Technology killed the joke. I’ve just had a thought. Maybe someone else knocked it out.

Maybe someone has got it in for me and that’s why he or she took it out for me?

Revenge perhaps?

Conspiracy theories abound. Could it have been the person who said I couldn’t keep a secret? Well let me tell you, I can!

The Nomates family had another top-secret wedding. Oops! It just slipped out. Oh well I suppose the damage is done now.

I can’t name the individuals concerned but the bride’s code name for the operation was ‘My Little Princess’ and the groom was called ‘the commoner’.

I know it sounds daft when you say it but it was my suggestion. I thought Hello Magazine might have caught a whisper and reacted. You know what I mean don’t you? ‘Princess and commoner in secret love match’.

They might have made an offer, after all who really knows who has royal connections?

It was a feeble attempt at a double bluff but once the paparazzi discovered the bride was related to me, even the Northwich Guardian didn’t chase the story.

Nevertheless, it was a glamorous affair, with a glamorous bride, glamorous bridesmaids, the very glamorous bride’s mother, and the very fetching groom and bride’s father.

The groom and the bride’s father had got rather wasted and waylaid on a rather dubious stag night and not had time to go home to change.

They arrived in church dressed as a pair of bunny girls with fluffy tails and lop sided ears with a ‘dancer’ called Monique, who had driven them to the church. (It’s best not to ask) The bride’s mother who can’t be named but it rhymes with ‘Sister-in-law Nomates’ didn’t bat an eyelid as she struggled to look demure in her Catwoman outfit while drinking a bottle of milk and apologising profusely to the vicar.

She, too, overdid the pre-event, event, if you get my drift.

I believe stag nights and hen nights should be at least a week before the ceremony and the bride’s parents should take it easy with the Phyllosan.

It might fortify the over 40s but an overdose can play havoc with common sense. You have to be on time for a wedding ceremony (brides can be five minutes late).

Our bride was a quarter of an hour late because she had to walk to church due to the fact that her father had passed out with her future husband in the ‘Watership Down Club’.

How she wished she had kept ‘My Little Pony’ to ride on to the church instead of the six-inch heels designed to keep the bottom of her dress dry.

Vicars won’t wait because they need the church for ‘send offs’ too. A backlog can cause immense problems and nothing can spoil the wedding photos more than a coffin in the background.

Normally Catwoman is a very principled lady who tries her best to ‘save the planet’.

Judging by the amount of wine she put away, she is going to leave saving grapes until a later date.

As you might expect of such a ‘green’ lady, we were given a bag each of that very special confetti, which disintegrates and does no damage to the environment, rather different to my own wedding when they threw rice.

I remember to this day my former mother in law throwing it at me in two-kilogram bags.

‘I’ll teach you to touch my daughter before you put a ring on her finger,’ she screamed to which my ex shouted ‘never mind teaching him how to do that, he can already do it. Teach him how to change nappies’.

It was a normal wedding where a normal father dressed as a bunny girl gives away his Little Princess to a younger man with big floppy ears who thought it was funny to say to the vicar every two minutes ‘what’s up doc?’ In the grand scheme of things whom will it affect? No one, that’s who! They arranged it all, paid for it out of their own money, and took care of a shed load of people.

Not that it was held in a shed, it’s just an expression.

It was held in a place so expensive that you could spend more in one day than you could earn from a decent bank robbery or banker’s bonus. Both are the same in my eyes.

On the other side of town, another Royal wedding had been staged. As a famous lady on the Royal Variety show said, ‘am I bovvered? I ain’t bovvered! Is one bovvered?

Well yes, actually, I for one am bovvered because one way or another it was another tug at the public purse.

We have already had to shell out for one royal do this year. ‘If any person can show just cause why they not be joined together, speak now or forever hold your peace’.

They should be asking ‘If any taxpayer can show just cause why they not have to pay for someone else’s wedding when they can hardly afford their own etc’.

Thousands of newly unemployed, disabled and those struggling from slashed public services will think, ‘we’ve been turned over twice in one year’. And how many of the royal family pay the money back when they divorce? Because they do you know, in numbers. Remember ‘an annus horribilis’?

It was reported that ‘taxpayers would be hit with a £500,000 bill to provide security for Zara Phillips's royal wedding’.

According to The Guardian, Zara and MikeTindall had been living on her mother's Gloucestershire estate, so they weren’t exactly skint like living on a housing estate.

I am genuinley pleased that she found hot love with a rugby player whose nickname is ‘The Fridge’ but I go cold when I read another example of Mr and Mrs Poor having to pay for the upset caused by someone else’s day.

It was reported that ‘Princess Anne's daughter, was forced to turn down a £500,000 deal with Hello Magazine! after it was blocked by Buckingham Palace’.

Well hello Your Majesty, I for one think One should have taken the money. I wonder if they had to pay to hire the boat for the cocktail reception.

We, the public have to pay to go on the Royal Yacht Brittania and the sandwiches are not cheap, I can tell you.

Why couldn’t they have just slipped off and tied the knot in a foreign land, prefereably one we don’t support? (A slip knot perhaps? OK not funny).

They were in Scotland so why not Gretna Green? It’s cheap and cheerful and full of touristes. All aspects covered if you ask me.

We did offer our own beautiful couple the opportunity to spend their honeymoon in Abi our caravan but were slightly offended that they declined.

We only asked them to pay ‘mates rates’, but they slunk off to some exotic land called Wales On Sea. The offer also goes to the Royals. If they’re struggling to afford a Travelodge in the recession like the rest of us and want somewhere quiet to stay for a few days they can stay in the caravan.

There is a toaster and a kettle and real wine glasses made out of real glass, not plastic. If it’s good enough for my Princess, Ms Nomates, it’s good enough for anyone.

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