Of course, one had to make one's own amusement. Which one did. Via Twitter, and with the help of ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
lokicarbis.
... I don't think any of this is treasonous.
The Beginning
Well, not actually the beginning, but I couldn't bear to watch the non-stop coverage from the previous day, including the dress rehearsal. I tuned in just in time to see the minor royals being herded into - of all things - maxi taxis for their ride to the Abbey. Classy.
I note the crowd are not exactly lining the streets. Perhaps they shouldn't keep going to the wide shot, so we can enjoy the illusion of crowds of royal well-wishers.
Then again, perhaps they shouldn't keep going to the close-ups. There are far too many American tourists festooned in souvenirs.
And, of course, we have the heart-warming sight of police eyeing off the crowds, armed with the Official Royal Wedding Automatic Rifle. Which will be on sale in all good Texas shops after the show.
The Arrivals
Nice to see the WAGS getting a bit of attention at this Brownlow - oh wait.
The ladies have strategically placed their satellite dishes on their heads to receive the 7PM Project's 'news coverage'
Clarence House informs us that the Royal Divorcees will arrive at the Abbey on their knees to be pelted with wedding cake by the crowd.
And here come Prince Andrew and his daughters. The Unseen Guest at the Wedding, Sarah Ferguson, is reportedly drowning her sorrows in a lot of gin right now. (Mind you, I can't help wondering how wonderfully catty it would be for her to do commentary on this event - because the BBC guy is boring me to tears. Out of solidarity with the Chaser, however, I will not be tuning in to Dame Edna or (god help me) Fitzy and Hughesy.)
Hmm, Princess Beatrice appears to be wearing apricot antlers to complement her outfit.
Or possibly a pretzel. Or a uterus. Or a tribute to the Flying Spaghetti Monster.
And there's Her Nibs, resplendent in bright yellow. English commentator: 'Crowd suddenly realising just who it is in that car'. Oh dear. Captain Obvious has the conn.
Little known #royalwedding facts: the Queen's outfit is dyed with the blood of 1000 canaries.
Dear me, was that a House Cavalryman falling off his horse behind Her Nibs' car? I do believe it was.
How nice. The Archbishop and the Queen have co-ordinated outfits for the occasion. Pay no attention to the death glare Her Nibs is shooting out from under that hat.
Camilla leaves the car to general indifference from the crowd. Charles, meanwhile, channels his Dad with that outfit, while rubbing it in that he will get to be King.
And there's the Royal Snub as Her Nibs and Camilla arrive on the doorstep.
Queen (thinks): One is not impressed that one's hat is smaller than That Woman's. One will have words with one's maids.
A fanfare rings out suddenly, and several rows of elderly dignitaries expire from shock as Her Nibs enters the Abbey.
The Bride Arrives
(via @jenbennet) BREAKING NEWS: Bride wearing white, has bouquet.
Little-known #royalwedding facts: the lace on Kate's dress was sewn at the London School of Needlwork by poor orphan girls in smocks, who are just grateful for a bit of charity from the fine ladies.
I see no golden carriage. They promised us a golden carriage. Overthrow the monarchy!
From the speed of the bridal limo, the wedding's running late.
Inside the limo: Dad, I want to stop at Starbucks on the way there.
At the Abbey doorstep, Kate pauses to give the crowd a good eyeful while flower girls flutter around her, looking entirely unlike bluebirds of happiness. English commentator: 'They're just making sure everything is unsoiled and undamaged'. Oh dear. Where do they find these people?
Kate: 'Hello, peasants'. Kate's Dad: 'Not yet, dear.'
And a million sentimental saps go 'Awwwwwww' as the flower girls enter. Sadly, not one of them throws a tantrum or dumps an entire basket full of rose petals in a heap in front of the bride, creating the potential for the winner of Britain's Funniest Home Videos.
No meringue on that dress. Shame on Kate for not being a carbon copy of Diana. Actually, it looks like something I saw in a shop in Brunswick last week. No, really.
English commentator, gushing: 'I am beside myself, this is such a fashion moment'. I am literally helpless with laughter.
The Ceremony
As the bride begins her walk to the altar, the strains of 'Highway to Hell' ring out.
I wonder if the guests in the arms of the cathedral's cross got cheaper seats, or if they have a Third Umpire-style giant LCD screen with instant replay.
At the altar, Prince Harry looks dishevelled and disreputable after menacing bridesmaid Pippa Middleton in the vestry. He appears to be possessed by the spirit of Prince Hal from Henry IV Part 1. Meanwhile, Wills, having misplaced his mourning coat and cravat, has quickly nipped out to the local costume shop to borrow an outfit from last Christmas' panto production of The Nutcracker.
Twelve ... hours ... later ... (That's one long aisle)
Proof this wedding isn't directed by Disney, despite the inexplicable presence of suspiciously green trees in the Abbey: no bluebirds. The strategic placement of the choirboys behind the red lamps, however, creates the amusing illusion that they are each, in fact, wearing a fez.
Wills appears to be stuck in a giggle loop. It may have something to do with Harry leaning over to whisper, 'Phwoar, you're in tonight, mate!' as Kate sailed up the aisle.
Oh no, apparently he only said, 'She looks beautiful'. Stupid lip-readers. Spoil all my fun.
The congregation launches into 'Guide Me, O Thou Great Reedemer', and there isn't a dry eye in the house.
Her Nibs (thinks): One is unsure if it is a touching tribute or simply bad taste to choose the same hymn as was played at one's daughter-in-law's funeral.
The Archbishop of Canterbury (hereafter known as the Dude in the Frock and Big Hat) sweeps forward to speak in forbiddingly plummy tones about the Dreadful Day of Judgment.
Harry (thinks): Total buzzkill. Why can't we have the guy from The Princess Bride instead?
Sir Elton - the other Queen - is visibly moved. One can hear him composing another mawkish tribute song in his head.
The ring is placed upon Kate's finger - or rather, forcibly rammed onto it. You'd think the Royal Jewellers might have measured it first. Apparently, Wills doesn't get a ring.
I visibly restrain myself from making 'one ring to rule them all' jokes.
Kate (sotto voce): 'If my finger drops off, don't think you're getting any, soldier boy.'
Hm, we appear to have duelling Archbishops. Or Bishops. Whatever. Dudes in frocks.
Little-known #royalwedding facts: In keeping with Prince Charles' 'green' consciousness, the ecclestiastical vestments used today will be recycled to upholster couches for the poor.
And forsooth, the vows are exchanged. It's all very Shakespearian - only without the sudden but inevitable betrayals by the Prince's younger brother (who is speculating on his chance of another quick visit to the vestry with Pippa Middleton), and far too little bloodshed. On long speeches, though, it's right on the money.
'Betwixt' - there's a word you don't hear often enough.
James Middleton - who bears the sad little title of 'Bride's Brother' - ascends to the lectern to read a pithy Bible verse. Apparently, someone forgot to put the box behind the lectern for him to stand on. He's barely visible.
Her Nibs takes the opportunity for a quick Nanna Nap as the Duelling Clergyman vie for the title of 'Most Boring Speaker'. Prince Phillip, an early contender for that honour, is clearly disgruntled.
Meanwhile, Pippa, surrounded by flower girls, appears to be dying for a toilet break.
Even the camera is bored. It's going for a wander. Hey, wait - isn't that the technique they use in filming US football, where they swoop the camera on a wire down the aisle? Classy.
Spotto in the audience: Prime Minister Gillard in yet another white blazer ... Ian Thorpe, who appears to be speculating on whether there's still time to hip-and-shoulder Kate aside and declare his undying love for Wills ... oh look, a Roman Catholic monsignor and an Orthodox priest in the naughty corner behind the ferns. And more fascinators than Oaks Day.
Short guy stuck behind really huge hat: 'Well, I'm having a dandy time.'
New theory on Beatrice's hat: it's actually a magical sigil to enable her to summon the Dread Elder Gods to wreak terrible revenge on Prince Andrew for giving her Sarah Ferguson for a mother.
Exit, Stage Right
That's one smug bride.
Kate (thinks): There are going to be some changes in the Palace now that I'm a Duchess. For a start, those hat of Beatrice's has got to go.
Oh, look, the golden carriage! I take it all back, the monarchy can stay.
And the crowd goes wild as the carriage speeds off through the streets. Meanwhile, back at the Abbey, Her Nibs is wondering who made off with her ride back to the Palace.
Several thousand police to the onlookers: 'Wave those bloody flags, peasants, or we'll 'ave you down the Tanty!'
Back at the Abbey, several guests are killed in the stampede for the Port-a-loos round the back. Eye injuries from dangerously tilted hats figure prominently in the casualty list. At last, the true reason for Beatrice's choice of hat is revealed: it enables her to lower her head and charge like a bull through the crowds of ladies heading for the toilets.
Her Nibs: One is not riding home in an Anglican Popemobile. One wants to know where one's carriage has got to.
Really, should they be playing 'God Save the Queen' as Kate and Wills clop by? It's a tad premature.
The Kiss
Hah. Like I'm going to comment on that.
... And so finally, finally it's over. And, not unlike a Logies awards show, there were a lot of dresses, far too much fatuous commentary and a lot of wondering why events like these can turn fervent feminists and republicans into squeeing fangirls.
I leave you with this, my personal candidate for Best Wedding Moment, which actually took place well after everyone had gone - the Amazing Cartwheeling Verger. It's the sheer shock and outrage from the BBC commentator that makes this particularly special, I think:
lokicarbis.... I don't think any of this is treasonous.
The Beginning
Well, not actually the beginning, but I couldn't bear to watch the non-stop coverage from the previous day, including the dress rehearsal. I tuned in just in time to see the minor royals being herded into - of all things - maxi taxis for their ride to the Abbey. Classy.
I note the crowd are not exactly lining the streets. Perhaps they shouldn't keep going to the wide shot, so we can enjoy the illusion of crowds of royal well-wishers.
Then again, perhaps they shouldn't keep going to the close-ups. There are far too many American tourists festooned in souvenirs.
And, of course, we have the heart-warming sight of police eyeing off the crowds, armed with the Official Royal Wedding Automatic Rifle. Which will be on sale in all good Texas shops after the show.
The Arrivals
Nice to see the WAGS getting a bit of attention at this Brownlow - oh wait.
The ladies have strategically placed their satellite dishes on their heads to receive the 7PM Project's 'news coverage'
Clarence House informs us that the Royal Divorcees will arrive at the Abbey on their knees to be pelted with wedding cake by the crowd.
And here come Prince Andrew and his daughters. The Unseen Guest at the Wedding, Sarah Ferguson, is reportedly drowning her sorrows in a lot of gin right now. (Mind you, I can't help wondering how wonderfully catty it would be for her to do commentary on this event - because the BBC guy is boring me to tears. Out of solidarity with the Chaser, however, I will not be tuning in to Dame Edna or (god help me) Fitzy and Hughesy.)
Hmm, Princess Beatrice appears to be wearing apricot antlers to complement her outfit.
Or possibly a pretzel. Or a uterus. Or a tribute to the Flying Spaghetti Monster.
And there's Her Nibs, resplendent in bright yellow. English commentator: 'Crowd suddenly realising just who it is in that car'. Oh dear. Captain Obvious has the conn.
Little known #royalwedding facts: the Queen's outfit is dyed with the blood of 1000 canaries.
Dear me, was that a House Cavalryman falling off his horse behind Her Nibs' car? I do believe it was.
How nice. The Archbishop and the Queen have co-ordinated outfits for the occasion. Pay no attention to the death glare Her Nibs is shooting out from under that hat.
Camilla leaves the car to general indifference from the crowd. Charles, meanwhile, channels his Dad with that outfit, while rubbing it in that he will get to be King.
And there's the Royal Snub as Her Nibs and Camilla arrive on the doorstep.
Queen (thinks): One is not impressed that one's hat is smaller than That Woman's. One will have words with one's maids.
A fanfare rings out suddenly, and several rows of elderly dignitaries expire from shock as Her Nibs enters the Abbey.
The Bride Arrives
(via @jenbennet) BREAKING NEWS: Bride wearing white, has bouquet.
Little-known #royalwedding facts: the lace on Kate's dress was sewn at the London School of Needlwork by poor orphan girls in smocks, who are just grateful for a bit of charity from the fine ladies.
I see no golden carriage. They promised us a golden carriage. Overthrow the monarchy!
From the speed of the bridal limo, the wedding's running late.
Inside the limo: Dad, I want to stop at Starbucks on the way there.
At the Abbey doorstep, Kate pauses to give the crowd a good eyeful while flower girls flutter around her, looking entirely unlike bluebirds of happiness. English commentator: 'They're just making sure everything is unsoiled and undamaged'. Oh dear. Where do they find these people?
Kate: 'Hello, peasants'. Kate's Dad: 'Not yet, dear.'
And a million sentimental saps go 'Awwwwwww' as the flower girls enter. Sadly, not one of them throws a tantrum or dumps an entire basket full of rose petals in a heap in front of the bride, creating the potential for the winner of Britain's Funniest Home Videos.
No meringue on that dress. Shame on Kate for not being a carbon copy of Diana. Actually, it looks like something I saw in a shop in Brunswick last week. No, really.
English commentator, gushing: 'I am beside myself, this is such a fashion moment'. I am literally helpless with laughter.
The Ceremony
As the bride begins her walk to the altar, the strains of 'Highway to Hell' ring out.
I wonder if the guests in the arms of the cathedral's cross got cheaper seats, or if they have a Third Umpire-style giant LCD screen with instant replay.
At the altar, Prince Harry looks dishevelled and disreputable after menacing bridesmaid Pippa Middleton in the vestry. He appears to be possessed by the spirit of Prince Hal from Henry IV Part 1. Meanwhile, Wills, having misplaced his mourning coat and cravat, has quickly nipped out to the local costume shop to borrow an outfit from last Christmas' panto production of The Nutcracker.
Twelve ... hours ... later ... (That's one long aisle)
Proof this wedding isn't directed by Disney, despite the inexplicable presence of suspiciously green trees in the Abbey: no bluebirds. The strategic placement of the choirboys behind the red lamps, however, creates the amusing illusion that they are each, in fact, wearing a fez.
Wills appears to be stuck in a giggle loop. It may have something to do with Harry leaning over to whisper, 'Phwoar, you're in tonight, mate!' as Kate sailed up the aisle.
Oh no, apparently he only said, 'She looks beautiful'. Stupid lip-readers. Spoil all my fun.
The congregation launches into 'Guide Me, O Thou Great Reedemer', and there isn't a dry eye in the house.
Her Nibs (thinks): One is unsure if it is a touching tribute or simply bad taste to choose the same hymn as was played at one's daughter-in-law's funeral.
The Archbishop of Canterbury (hereafter known as the Dude in the Frock and Big Hat) sweeps forward to speak in forbiddingly plummy tones about the Dreadful Day of Judgment.
Harry (thinks): Total buzzkill. Why can't we have the guy from The Princess Bride instead?
Sir Elton - the other Queen - is visibly moved. One can hear him composing another mawkish tribute song in his head.
The ring is placed upon Kate's finger - or rather, forcibly rammed onto it. You'd think the Royal Jewellers might have measured it first. Apparently, Wills doesn't get a ring.
I visibly restrain myself from making 'one ring to rule them all' jokes.
Kate (sotto voce): 'If my finger drops off, don't think you're getting any, soldier boy.'
Hm, we appear to have duelling Archbishops. Or Bishops. Whatever. Dudes in frocks.
Little-known #royalwedding facts: In keeping with Prince Charles' 'green' consciousness, the ecclestiastical vestments used today will be recycled to upholster couches for the poor.
And forsooth, the vows are exchanged. It's all very Shakespearian - only without the sudden but inevitable betrayals by the Prince's younger brother (who is speculating on his chance of another quick visit to the vestry with Pippa Middleton), and far too little bloodshed. On long speeches, though, it's right on the money.
'Betwixt' - there's a word you don't hear often enough.
James Middleton - who bears the sad little title of 'Bride's Brother' - ascends to the lectern to read a pithy Bible verse. Apparently, someone forgot to put the box behind the lectern for him to stand on. He's barely visible.
Her Nibs takes the opportunity for a quick Nanna Nap as the Duelling Clergyman vie for the title of 'Most Boring Speaker'. Prince Phillip, an early contender for that honour, is clearly disgruntled.
Meanwhile, Pippa, surrounded by flower girls, appears to be dying for a toilet break.
Even the camera is bored. It's going for a wander. Hey, wait - isn't that the technique they use in filming US football, where they swoop the camera on a wire down the aisle? Classy.
Spotto in the audience: Prime Minister Gillard in yet another white blazer ... Ian Thorpe, who appears to be speculating on whether there's still time to hip-and-shoulder Kate aside and declare his undying love for Wills ... oh look, a Roman Catholic monsignor and an Orthodox priest in the naughty corner behind the ferns. And more fascinators than Oaks Day.
Short guy stuck behind really huge hat: 'Well, I'm having a dandy time.'
New theory on Beatrice's hat: it's actually a magical sigil to enable her to summon the Dread Elder Gods to wreak terrible revenge on Prince Andrew for giving her Sarah Ferguson for a mother.
Exit, Stage Right
That's one smug bride.
Kate (thinks): There are going to be some changes in the Palace now that I'm a Duchess. For a start, those hat of Beatrice's has got to go.
Oh, look, the golden carriage! I take it all back, the monarchy can stay.
And the crowd goes wild as the carriage speeds off through the streets. Meanwhile, back at the Abbey, Her Nibs is wondering who made off with her ride back to the Palace.
Several thousand police to the onlookers: 'Wave those bloody flags, peasants, or we'll 'ave you down the Tanty!'
Back at the Abbey, several guests are killed in the stampede for the Port-a-loos round the back. Eye injuries from dangerously tilted hats figure prominently in the casualty list. At last, the true reason for Beatrice's choice of hat is revealed: it enables her to lower her head and charge like a bull through the crowds of ladies heading for the toilets.
Her Nibs: One is not riding home in an Anglican Popemobile. One wants to know where one's carriage has got to.
Really, should they be playing 'God Save the Queen' as Kate and Wills clop by? It's a tad premature.
The Kiss
Hah. Like I'm going to comment on that.
... And so finally, finally it's over. And, not unlike a Logies awards show, there were a lot of dresses, far too much fatuous commentary and a lot of wondering why events like these can turn fervent feminists and republicans into squeeing fangirls.
I leave you with this, my personal candidate for Best Wedding Moment, which actually took place well after everyone had gone - the Amazing Cartwheeling Verger. It's the sheer shock and outrage from the BBC commentator that makes this particularly special, I think:
