I have come fairly late to this whole business of The Royal Wedding, I blame this to living in France.
You see out here for the winter they restrict the number of English papers you can buy AND they insure that you don’t buy these too often by delivering them at least one day late.
The attractions of spending the bones of four Euro on an out of date Daily Mail are very few so, as a consequence , The Royal Wedding has hit me fair and square between the eyes at what is probably the last possible moment.
Yesterday the Telegraph (the heaviest – in kilos – available paper on a Saturday and therefore my choice) was full of pictures of William and Kate, at least I assume it was, I am having a difficulty here.
This girl Kate Middleton , is to me the most spectacularly nondescript girl I have ever seen.
Seen leaning on William’s arm I can make a fairly shrewd guess that it is she, but, on her own, shopping or whatever and she could be any pretty twenty something, dark haired girls.
In fact they could roll out any of thousands of pretty brown haired thin English roses, put a veil over them , send them off down Westminster Abbey and I defy poor William to tell the difference.
It was when this thought struck me that the truth behind Royal Wedding Theory
dawned on me .
Now we all know that the marriage of Charles and Diana was (to put it mildly) a bit of a disaster for The Royal Family.
They are, we know immensely wealthy and powerful and resourceful.
I think myself that they have laid on a clever plan to make sure that the sins of the father do not come and rest squarely on William’s head.
Do not for one moment imagine that this meeting between the happy couple was an accident- I mean apparently they were put into the same house together in St. Andrews.
Katherine Middleton was carefully selected for this job, she may well have been selected and trained from birth- as also have at least another three or four perfect clones.
It is , of course , for this reason that she has incredibly nondescript features.
This small harem of look-alikes is what William is marrying next week.
It is after all the perfect solution.
No one woman could be expected to fulfil the incredibly punishing schedule demanded of a British would-be Queen, instead members of the harem will take it in turns.
This also offers a simple and controlled solution to the age old problem of the males of the British Royal family having (again, to put it mildly , see Henry VIII ) a certainly difficulty keeping their fly buttons done up.
When William gets home to his palace he can , in the age old system of the East , just make a selection from his seraglio.
Furthermore should the stresses of the job prove too much for any of the team (or should their eye stray to some rugby player ) they can quietly be retired to a convent in Transylvania (or a small hotel in Lisdoonvarna) and no-one will be any the wiser.
Having cracked this I am filled with admiration for the Royal Family and now deeply regret that I won’t be able to be there to cheer on Herself when she hits Ireland in the Autumn.
Comments
isabel healy
on April 24, 2011Absolutely Martin. You got it. So nice+nondescript as to be easily+completely clonable. Maybe the British royal family are secretly Mormon polygamists as well, so William can be ‘sealed’ to all the other Kate Middleclasses to ensure their efforts are all acknowledged. Did you know that Herself is visiting the English Market and flying out of Cork?
betty
on April 24, 2011Martin – you are defo on to something here re the selection process. Ms M’s predecessor Princess Di was surely chosen to introduce some badly needed height to the Windsor gene pool. With that solved, Ms M was the obvious solution to the baldness gene. If you think I am raving, take a look at a photo of her dad. Have you ever seen such a head of hair on a man in his sixties? I rest my case.
Martin
on April 24, 2011Thank you both, my theory of royal manipulation is hereby vindicated.
Petra
on April 27, 2011Behold the alarming effects of newspaper deprivation and diligently cultivated peculiarity. Isabel, Betty: what’s your excuse?
The comments are closed.