Enjoy while it lasts

Jamboree’s a nice break from harsh reality

THERE was a flurry of gambling in the pub last week about how they would choreograph Prince Andrew out of the current celebrations.

“Monkeypox,” said someone. “Oversweating,” said another. “The FBI” was another guess. In the end it was Covid that got him.

Strange life, I imagine, being a disgraced royal. What do you do all day? Strange people generally, although – as the last few days have demonstrated – we do like them.

There was an interesting bit of polling from IPSOS about who our favourite royal is. The Queen won, obviously, followed by Kate, then William.

Incredibly, Andrew is still the favourite of two per cent of the country. This is the problem with anonymous surveys – we need to know exactly who these two per cent are, where they live, and what’s the matter with them.

Rats

No-one has ever really liked Andrew, especially after the recent allegations. He’s always come across as an unlikeable man.

But anyway, he’s no part of this jamboree which has been, if nothing else, a distraction until politics comes roaring back into town tomorrow.

It has been quite nice to be honest, this little break, with Parliament not sitting and a sort of temporary truce settling on the sack of fighting rats that is the Tory party at the moment.

It won’t last though. Expect it all to spring into action in the morning.

It looks like the pressure will get ramped up again then, with a view to letting it build on the way to a big fight after the upcoming by-elections.

The Lib Dems are getting increasingly confident about winning Porno Tory Neil Parish’s seat in Tiverton and Honiton, Devon, and it’s the same for Labour with Wakefield.

Anyways, this is a royal week. I was repeatedly egged on to write something here about “parasites” or “off with their heads” or moan on about the Civil List.

So I went off to dig out various stats about how more people go to Legoland Windsor than Windsor Castle, how much land these characters own, how much money they get, etc, etc. But it feels a bit churlish. Everyone seems to be enjoying themselves and I’m getting too old to start being angered by people having fun I don’t understand.

It’s pleasant really. Thursday night outside my house all you could smell was barbecues, no cars in the road, everyone having a good time.

I know it costs a lot of money and there’s a cost-of-living crisis and foodbanks and war but it’s nice to have a break. Back to work soon enough.

Also, it sort of reminds you what kind of constant the Queen has been. Like her or not, like what she stands for or not, the whole thing will change when she’s gone.

I will leave it to the more rabid republicans among us to lay out the case for abolition, etc.

Another conversation outside the pub last week where two of my colleagues, my friends, were arguing about “would you want the Queen’s life?”.

“No way,” said one. “No privacy, no time to relax, the eyes of the world on you. I wouldn’t fancy it, no way.”

“Yeah but,” said the other, her eyes lighting up, “unlimited shoes.”