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IN the past seven days some posh bird with a gob full of silver spoons married a bloke who is the very definition of chinless wonder bought to life.
Then we had a Yank actress, who is knocking on a bit at 37, announce she’s having a baby. Possibly a ginger one.
Woo! Gotta love our Royal Family. They don’t do things by halves do they? Well, unless it’s work of course.
Suddenly the entire country is knee deep in purple party souvenirs as we forget our woes and raise a glass to toast all this joyful news.
Um, no. The dreaded “B” word is still making me want to boil my own head. Or possibly Theresa May’s. The mess that is Universal Credit is about as easy to understand as the current football competition England are playing in. And the sodding X Factor is STILL on telly!
But the amount of people who seem to think the fact that Little Miss Sparkle is up the duff is a feel-good factor is astonishing. Dear God. Woman having baby shocker.
And look how this amazing doyen of feminism is still working!
How on earth will she cope with all those 5-star hotels, first-class flights, servants to attend to her every whim and, most tiring of all, waving?
Jeez, next she’ll be opening and closing her own car doors. Ooh, the strain of it all…
The best bit about this whole taxpayer-funded soap opera though is that Harry and Megs supposedly broke royal etiquette by breaking their baby news to the rest of The Firm on Eugenie’s wedding day. Talk about stealing the bride’s thunder. No wonder Fergie looked like she was chewing a wasp at times. Oh, sorry, always looks like that.
It was, frankly, the best telly all year. Because no matter what you think of the Royals it was impossible not to be fascinated by the UK’s most dysfunctional and spoilt family putting themselves on display.
Eugenie could have run off and married her upper-class twit barman (all that education not wasted there then) on a beach. She didn’t need us to fork out £2million plus for the full bells and whistles knees-up.
The smart money is that Megs got pregs after a polo match. Gives a whole new meaning to having a chukka doesn’t it?
Now she’s on an all expenses paid trip Down Under with the type of “swollen” belly most of us get after a decent curry and pint. And she’s still doing that pathetic clutching his arm thing. Just stop it, Meghan! It’s irritating and makes you look like a wimpy little girl who only ever dreamt of marrying a prince and having baybees… SPOILT: Harry, Meg & Fergie