A royal flush

I've been putting a fair amount of effort into ignoring the whole royal wedding extravaganza, but it's becoming more difficult. I emerged from my house this morning to find that three of the houses in my row have sprouted plastic bunting emblazoned with pictures of a certain couple; a sight which caused me to stop dead in my tracks and let loose a 'Gah!' of horror. I just don't understand what all the fuss is about. I love a wedding as much as the next hopeless romantic, but surely all the enjoyment comes from witnessing and basking in the joy of somebody you care about as they hitch themselves to somebody they care about. Anybody deciding to declare their love for another human being, and their intention of sticking by that person for life, is lovely, but I wouldn't dream of popping along to the local church this weekend, taking a picture of a random couple, getting it printed onto a plate and slapping it up on my wall for posterity. I like to cultivate eccentricities, but that's a step too far even for me, and I see no difference between this and the purchase of any of the abundant Kate and Wills merchandise that's out there.

Having said this, I will be attending a royal wedding party, and with Americans no less (I anticipate shrillness and over-excitement). I've had my arm viciously twisted with offers of food, drink and good company, so I've given in. I have every intention of watching the wedding in my pyjamas and a plastic tiara, and of heckling. I would throw crisps at the tv screen if I weren't going to be in somebody else's house. This is patriotism the Meg way. As with many things done 'The Meg way', it will involve a glass of something alcoholic stationed firmly in my hand, and a spectacular display of cynical indignation. I can already feel my hostess releasing her hold on the arm behind my back......