Stone me, what a life

The Royal Family are to the BBC what Peter Andre and Kerry Katona are to chat magazines. The sycophantic obsequiousness to the inconsequential and pampered minutiae of their lives is breath-taking in its mistimed judgement of public interest and public sympathy. Particularly at a time of such dire economic hardship for most – energy bills rising by 10% this week, job losses at the Grangemouth petro-chemicals plant in Scotland, food prices up, wages and pensions shrinking etc etc. Though it might feel like it at times, this is not the 1930s. We are not going to be cheered by the sight of a Royal waving their flat cap to a crowd of starving unemployed and saying ‘something must be done’ before buggering off in the Rolls to the Côte d’Azur to buy some diamonds. What sort of docile imbeciles do they think we are?

Prince George got christened. OK. Cue a vacuous debate one ‘The One Show’ – surely the most patronising programme on TV – about why people christen their kids, and reams of coverage on the news channels (he’s having seven God Parents, you know?). It only takes the studied tones of ponderous deference that clog Nicholas Witchell’s voice – reminiscent of a funeral director in full punt – to have me reaching for my Guido Fawkes mask and taking to the street with a Molotov cocktail and a length of rope to start lynching ‘toffs’.

Oliver Cromwell must be turning in his graves.

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