The date’s been set, the hall’s been booked, the dress has been selected and the invitations are being printed — even as we speak. All I have to do now is watch the mail to make sure mine gets here in time. Then it’s rent a tux and off to Jolly Olde England for The Wedding Of The Year! (Sorry, Celeste!)
Even if you’re a hopeless anti-monarchist, you know that Prince Harry is going to marry Meghan Markle on May 19th — and by all accounts, this is going to be quite the shindig. First of all, the Brits do pomp and circumstance better than anyone, but, more importantly, this is Prince Harry. This is the guy who punched a paparazzi in the face and split his lip. The guy who wore a Nazi uniform to a costume party. And the guy who was photographed playing strip billiards in Vegas (and obviously losing.) Brother William might be the future king of England, Scotland, Wales, etc., etc., etc., but Harry’s the royal you want to drink tequila with. Here’s a lad who knows how to party, and what better party than his own wedding reception?
Plus, when your grandma is Queen Elizabeth II — the richest, most prestigious woman on the planet — the sky’s the limit. After all, rumour has it, that she’s the one who picked up the phone and got the Spice Girls back together just ’cause her grandson thought it would be cool. Personally, if I was Harry, that would be the tip of the iceberg. On my wedding day, I’d roll up to the church in a gold coach, pulled by panda bears — while the Vienna Boys Choir sang “Another One Bites The Dust.” (But that’s just me!)
The thing is Harry is never going to be king, and everybody knows it. (By the time the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge get finished in April, he’s going to be relegated to 7th in line to the British throne which, in royal terms, means he might as well be a pub owner from Putney!) Essentially, he’s a royal nobody. So, what do you do when your brother’s the heir and you’re the spare? You don’t really have a job, but you can’t just wander off to the Cotswolds and grow vegetables, either. I think it’s remarkable that Harry has carved himself out a place in the world — two military tours in Afghanistan, trekking to the North and South Poles and organizing the Invictus Games — and, he’s had a hell of a lot of fun doing it.
I approve of Harry. He may go off the royal rails every now and again, but he does understand what it takes to make an irrelevant prince relevant in the 21st century. Besides, I like it that — even though he’s obligated to wear the very straight strait-jacket of the House of Windsor — he still tends to go his own way.
The truth is I’m probably not going to get invited to the wedding of His Royal Highness, Prince Henry of Wales to Ms. Meghan Markle, but, that’s okay, because the invitation I’m actually waiting for is to Harry’s Stag Party.
We live in a complicated world. There are any number of hairy, scary ooglies out there, trying to do us harm. External germs, internal neuroses, the dolt down the block with his motorcycle — it just never ends. Luckily, I’ve been around for a few decades now, and I’ve discovered that just about anything can be fixed with television. Think about it! When you were a kid and you got sick, what did your mom, dad or legal guardian give you to make you feel better? A day off school and full control of the TV remote. Parenting was a lot easier in those days, but it must have worked ’cause you’re still here. So, with that in mind, let’s take a look at a few other ways to cope with these troubled times. (BTW, for some of the bigger problems, we’ve added alcohol to the mix.)
WD Fyfe 