The Duchess of Cambridge made an informed choice and she pursued it ? she's going to be fine
Now that the "loveliness" is over, is it churlish to admit that I have not been gasping about the Dress, panting at the pageantry or sighing over the bunting?
It's not that I am against the monarchy per se. Nor do I resent the cost or the hullabaloo. If it makes Princesses Eugenie and Beatrice happy to wear Quality Street wrappers and TV aerials on their heads, like joint third place in a village fete's fancy dress competition, then so be it.
The reason I'm not remotely excited about the royal wedding or, indeed, the royal marriage is that I have not invested in the couple. I don't expect to be interested in Prince William, but somehow neither am I interested in Kate Windsor, n�e Middleton. Nor do I feel sorry for her.
This article could be titled "How I Took a Deep Breath and Learned to Stop Worrying about Kate Middleton". Before, I'd been thinking that I should be feeling very sorry for her. I even wrote an article suggesting that, rather than marry into the Windsor house of horrors, the best thing Kate could do was jilt Wills at the altar, then do a runner.
The plan could have worked brilliantly, involving Kate scarpering from the abbey, still in her wedding dress, and hiding out at fellow commoners' houses, until we could smuggle her out of the country. After the nation had got over the shock, a film could have been made of it, starring Gwyneth Paltrow as a foul mouthed, V-flicking Kate and Judi Dench as Prince William.
Everyone would have agreed that it was all for the best ? Kate escaping her fate as an icon of regal victimhood, a lamb to the royal slaughter. In short (sigh) the New Diana. The truth is, however, that through her sheer, unadulterated, self-willed blankness, Ms Middleton appears on track to escape this fate anyway
Joking apart, I genuinely think that a lot of people, including me, have been on the wrong track fretting even a little bit about Kate Middleton's destiny. Even with the odd dodgy relly, this "commoner/one of us" thing was always a false path. The same goes for her step into the unknown, lack of privacy, life in the goldfish bowl and the rest. However much we try to crank out concern for her, it just doesn't take.
The reason is that Kate simply isn't the fizzing ball of naive vulnerability and jack-knifing contradictions that Diana was; just as she is not so infuriating, nor is she so endearing or interesting. Kate won't be throwing herself down the stairs for husbandly attention or moodily rollerblading through the castle corridors, sobbing to popular ballads. There will no mischievous posing at the Taj Mahal. Looking at pictures of the newly wed Diana, you think "bag of nerves". Looking at Kate, you think, here is a rather shrewd, calculating person ? a businesswoman, for all her joblessness.
She made an informed choice and she pursued it ? she's going to be fine. And good for her, right? She's already been saddled with Diana's ring; who now would wish her late mother-in-law's royal experiences on Kate Middleton? It is undoubtedly for the best that she is a totally different personality type, someone who's probably long held a clear-eyed view of royal pressures and decided that the pros outweighed the cons.
If there are those who'd prefer her to be more instinctive and exotic, provide a "narrative", need endless transfusions of public empathy, then that is their sickness, not hers. Whether you wished it on her or not, it seems that Kate Middleton was never on track to be the New Diana. The New Sophie Wessex, without the fake sheik, would probably be nearer the mark.
Souffles are fine, but buns are better
Congratulations to MasterChef champion, nice American Tim Anderson. However, in the spirit of reality TV patriotism, if such a thing exists, could I put in a good word for Channel 4's The Great British Hairdresser?
Admittedly, it's not the best title. Not only does it makes the show sound like a follicular version of a fry-up, it is a punning opportunity missed (Britain's Next Top Bobble?). Nevertheless, it's been enthralling the nation for weeks. Which lowly snipper is going to win, to be elevated into the rarified world of celebrity styling ? sticking rollers in for J-Lo or, more likely, Christine Bleakley.
Mentor and Simon Cowell of trims is James Brown, "friend and stylist of Kate Moss". Brown is constantly berating the competitors for the cardinal sin of "doing shit hair". This brings back memories of interviewing celebrities at photo-sessions, sitting seething, waiting for the stylist to finish fussing with the damn hair, so they could get their sodding pictures taken and I could finally have my ("Woo hoo!") five seconds of allotted interview time.
Still, it's interesting ? why as a nation do we pour all our TV emotions into food when, arguably, hair is more important? Anyone can get over eating, or cooking, a terrible meal. But if someone cuts your hair badly, then your life is literally ruined forever, "forever" in this context meaning "a couple of months", "literally" meaning "sort of".
Maybe TGBH is compelling because it embodies every woman's greatest tonsorial fear ? crazed snippers trying to impress each other by turning your tresses into an avant garde fur ball or, worse, "shit hair".
TGBH contestants ? we might not like you quite as much as MasterChef's Tim, but we definitely fear you more.
Don't do that, George, it's not nice
Oh dear. Straight after David Cameron's "calm down dear" moment, George Osborne sends a weird message to Shelagh Fogarty to mark her last breakfast show on Radio 5. Correctly identifying Fogarty as the presenter who'd previously admitted to having erotic dreams about him, the chancellor hoped she would have "more hours for those dreams you've been having". George, I think we both know that you've let yourself down.
Clearly, top Tories are not immune to a political form of what is known chez Ellen as "fatally relaxing". A dating phenomenon, fatally relaxing is when someone ruins all the hard work they've put into convincing their new partner of how worthy and perfect they are. For instance, a friend had her new man thinking that she was this amazing, fragrant damsel, then she fatally relaxed, got trashed and ended up falling into a hedge, vomiting on herself. This person may or may not have been me.
Another woman FR-ed big time and ended up swaying around her new guy's garden at 3am, with an iPod on, screeching Eva Cassidy songs. A self-styled Mr Suave returned from an extended pub crawl weeping, trying to eat two kebabs at once. All classic FR ? alcohol is usually involved, but the main point is that the painstaking myth-making that has gone into your image is destroyed with one dreadful display of what must be sorrowfully called "the Real You".
Osborne should take note. He may not have been trashed (I say, may not), but leaving that creepy (though strangely arousing) message for Sheila Fogarty is a textbook FR episode. He is in severe danger of destroying his carefully cultivated "Big Boy" chancellor image. On behalf of FR veterans everywhere: it's time to get a grip, George, or all will be lost.
Source: http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2011/may/01/royal-wedding-kate-middleton-masterchef
Stephen Harper Dennis Hastert Vaclav Havel John Howard Mike Huckabee
No comments:
Post a Comment