Opinion: The Diamond Jubilee Is Just Another Shit Family Party
By Mark Grainger on June 3, 2012 in Society
By the time you’ve read this there’s a strong chance that I’ll have choked myself to death with some of that lovely red, white and blue bunting. It’s nothing kinky I promise, Its just that I’m not sure I can take the enforced fun of the Jubilee weekend.
Over the next few days we’re sure to have image after image of the Queen and her brood shoved through the televisions and into our sodden, mushy, union flag decorated brains. Here’s the Queen being driven in a car, there she is sitting down, oh look Prince Charles just gave Camilla a sugar lump and Prince Philip’s just racially abused a foreigner, what a character he is.
The news has already been at it for months with the seemingly never ending torrent of pointless, faintly positive coverage of such earth shattering events as Prince Harry dancing with tropical island dwellers, or Kate Middleton bending over to greet a small child. Meanwhile the Daily Mail has been threatening to spaff it’s pants over the pictures; it’s coven of vacuous harpies passing comments with the all the substance of a MacNugget like “hasn’t she gotten skinny?” and “you wouldn’t catch Diana skipping over the cream cakes”.
On and on it’ll go whilst the BBC presents a retrospective after retrospective, culminating in a day long orgy of helicopter footage and Huw Edwards. He’ll drone on about ludicrous pomp and pageantry, the crowd’s will show the flags painted on their cheeks and anybody whose brazen enough to not giving a flying toss will be reaching for the most jagged piece of special Jubilee crockery they can find by the time Gary Barlow takes to the stage for his special Jubilee concert.
The problem is that the Jubilee is basically the sort of shite party that you’re forced to attend. It’s the family barbecue at your cousin’s house, full of people you don’t know getting pissed, shouty and nostalgic whilst you impatiently watch the minute hand of your watch, unable to even escape to the kitchen for a chat with Jona Lewie. Yes, sixty years is a landmark, especially if you’ve been sleeping in passive aggressive silence next to the same person for the duration, or if you’ve spent the majority of your expected life span doing good deeds like re-homing kittens or making scones for the the poor, but if I was celebrating sixty years of being paid to fly around the world in luxury, attending state dinners and having my face on every coin, note and stamp in the land I think I might be a tad sheepish about making everybody else join in. An Irish coffee and a muffin with a candle in would do me fine, thank you very much.
What’s worse is that its highly possible that within the next ten years we’ll be forced to celebrate the coronation of Prince Charles. Assuming that Charles doesn’t choke on his own erection at his mother’s funeral we can expect to see the helicopters fly again, the golden carriage and crown polished and the nation forced to applaud whilst a man who talks to plants takes to the throne. Then the whole sorry cycle of jubilation can start again. Pass me the bunting.
Boo, what a miserable git, etc. If you actually think that the Royals, The Queen, or massive Korean-style displays of power are actually fantastic, you can have 500 words to go on about it as well. Balance and all that. Email us.
- Something For The Weekend? – Penshaw Monument