A Right Royal Wedding

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Friday, 29 April 2011 15:10 by Acerbic Conehead
With a Royal Wedding in the offing, the Coalition should be full of the joys of Spring, revelling in bonhomie and offering best wishes to the young couple who are just about to tie the knot. However, for the Coalition, it was the worst of times, and showing signs that it was about to get even worser.

Not only is the hated revolutionary regime of Citizen Gillard still in power, but it only stays there due to the class treachery of those traitors who should know better – Tony Windsor-Castle, “Royal” Rob Oakeshott, and “Baron” Bob Katter.

So, for their part, the Coalition has lots to complain about. For example, Citizen Gillard and her oafs have enclosed the commons and other nature-strips, to enforce the implementation of their collectivist NBN (“Neuter Business Now”) five-year chimera plan.

Also, they have infiltrated, with union thugs, the workforce engaged in renovating the landmark communications hub of the Coalition – the Boatphone Bastille. By installing pink batts in the roof-space, they made them self-combust and the Bastille has been burnt to the ground. However, on a more positive note, the ABC has agreed to take over where the Bastille left off.

And, the nature of parliamentary democracy itself is at stake, due to the Machiavellian bastardry of Citizen Gillard and her henchmen, such as “Robespierre” Rudd and “Bonaparte Bill” Shorten. As an example, resort to the dreaded guillotine in the House is on a daily basis, and, “Madam Defarge” D’Ath knits, as yet another member of the Opposition is dispatched by the Speaker, Harry “Jacobin” Jenkins.

And even the Church is not safe. Recently, two bishops, Julie and Bronny, have been imprisoned. A ransom (dubbed by the Opposition, a GNBT – “Gillard’s Nobble the Bishops Tax”) has been demanded for their release. So far, the Opposition say, on a matter of principle, they will not pay it. Off the record, however, the coalition forces reckon they would do a better job with the pair of them out of the way anyway.

But, thankfully, the Opposition is not taking it all lying down. For example, a people’s counter-revolutionary militia, the RAT (“Revolters Against Terror”) Army, has been formed, under the capable leadership of Alan “Aristocrat” Jones.

Also, thousands of journalists from the Fourth Estate, ably led by Lord Dennis of Shandringham, are threatening to go on strike. However, the latest reports say that they will keep on working, as the Coalition reckons they are of more use to them manipulating their Blackberries than manning the barricades.

However, of all the good things going for the Coalition, their most prized asset by far is that intrepid hero, that master of disguise, who can infiltrate any situation, laying the lefties low. He is none other than – THE SCARLET PIMPERNEL!!!



So, to escape the ennui at home, Citizen Gillard and Tim the First Bloke, are happy to get on the plane to Blighty for Bill and Kate’s nuptials.

Having landed and set up base-camp at the Savoy, they are busily getting themselves ready to set out for Westminster Abbey. Tim, however, is down on all-fours, scanning under the bed.

Jooles: Erm...if you’re looking for your cuff-links, darl...they’re over there on the dresser...

Tim: Nah...I’m just checking that the Scarlet Pimpernel isn’t hiding under the bed – you can’t trust the bugger...

Jooles: Oh, don’t worry about him – he’ll still be in Oz, listening to Alan Jones, and stuffing his face with Easter eggs...

[Jooles and Tim head off to the Abbey and are seated with the other Heads of Government, near the front. Jooles looks at her watch.]

Jooles: Hmmm...it’s traditional, I’m told...heh...heh..., for the bride to be late, but so far there’s no sign even of Billy-boy...

[Then, in speak-of-the-devil-style, in marches Bill, down the centre-aisle, and straight up to the lectern. Clearing his throat, he begins to address the congregation.]

Bill: Erm...lords and ladies...and everybody else...I must apologise for the delay...we will have things under way in a jiff...But, now that I’ve got the floor, I would like to take this opportunity to tell a few home truths about the Australian national carrier, QANTAS...And QANTAS indeed it is – Quisling Airlines Network with Traitors And Socialists! I’ll have you know that I recently flew with them and the meals are kruddy and the stewardesses are real bitches!...

[As you can imagine, in the cathedral, you could have heard one of the nails from the original cross drop. Understandably, Jooles is outraged by this sleight on a prized Australian institution. She is just about to get the First Bloke to go and punch him on the nose, when Bill leaps off the sanctuary, bolts down the centre aisle, and disappears out the front door. A few seconds later, however, Bill marches up the centre aisle again, but is intercepted by a retainer who whispers something in his ear. Bill has a look of incredulity on his face. He glances sheepishly at Jooles and approaches the lectern again.]

Bill: Erm...lords and ladies...and the rest of you...I must apologise for my lateness...errr...one of the corgis did a whoopsie on my shoe and it took me ages to get it off...I hope you’ll forgive me...But, on another matter, I need to apologise profoundly for the actions a few moments ago of an imposter, who took the opportunity to pretend he was me and then make mischief...I hope the Prime Minister of Australia was not unduly contrafibularitied...

[Bill sprints away from the lectern and takes his seat in the front pew, awaiting the entrance of the lovely Kate. After a few more awkward moments, the Archbishop of Canterbury enters the sanctuary from a rear cloister and approaches the lectern. Tim whispers out of the side of his mouth to Jooles.]

Tim: About bloody time too – I wish they would just get this show on the road...

Archbishop: My brothers and sisters in Christ...I am delighted to inform you that the bride is on her way and I will journey forthwith to the front door to welcome her...But, before I do that, I need to issue a few words of warning...Y’know, don’t believe all this old tosh, from those revolutionary ratbags in Australia, about this so-called ‘global warming’ – it’s a load of crap actually...and to quote the words of a great, distinguished, Australian theologian and statesman – it was really a lot friggin’ warmer in Jesus’ day...

[Again, Jooles is outraged by such a public sleight on her government’s international reputation, and is just about to extract her bottle of hair-dye from her pocket (she forgot her hand-bag again!) and fire it at him, when the Arch strides down the centre-aisle and out the front door. After a few moments, the organ starts up with the usual ditty and in comes Kate, looking so beautiful, she would make the Mona Lisa look like Bronny, just out of bed, without her make-up. However, the Archbishop can’t fathom why everyone is looking askance at him. He plods up the aisle anyway.

The rest of the service goes to plan, thankfully, with no more outrageous interjections, and the select few head over to Buck Palace for the follow-up shindig. The wedding reception is being held around the Palace pool (a number of the heavier retainers had been chucked in earlier to break up the ice). However, no-one is game enough on put on their bathers and risk the sub-arctic temperatures of the pool. No-one except Prince Phillip, that is. If people thought old Phil was barmy, this merely confirmed their suspicions. After doing a few hundred laps, he gets out and approaches the mic-stand, still in his bathers. Ready to utter a few words of welcome, he is caught off-guard somewhat, by one of the corgis doing a whoopsie right in front of the mic-stand. Phil carries on regardless.]

Phil: I would like to take this opportunity to welcome you here this afternoon to Buckingham Palace...But, before I go on, I would like to speak in favour of introducing that good old Australian system for keeping the staff in their places – WorkChoices! We haven’t been allowed to flog the buggers for a while now, so I’m all for giving the bolshie blighters a good belting...

[At the mention of WorkChoices, for Jooles the penny drops. She pushes her way to the front and confronts “Phil”.]

Jooles: Tony!! That’s you, isn’t it!! You’re not Prince Phillip, are you!! Why, you’re nothing but that arch-counter-revolutionary, the Scarlet Pimpernel – the red budgie smugglers are a dead giveaway!! And, you also impersonated Prince William and the Archbishop at the Cathedral, didn’t you?

Pimpy: But...but...but...I wouldn’t have done it if someone had sent me an invite as well – why do I always miss out...I’m never going to get the keys to The Lodge...boo...hoo...

[The police surround Pimpy and cuff his hands behind his back, ready to transport him to the Tower. However, Jooles raises her hand to stop them.]

Jooles: Hey, Tony...I’ll tell you what – I’ll hand you the keys to The Lodge...

[Jooles stretches out her hand, but, instead of slipping the keys down the front of Pimpy’s budgies, she drops them straight into the do-do the corgi deposited.]

Jooles: There you go, Tony...you can bend over and fetch the keys out if you wish, but, if you do, this time it won’t be me who will be wearing the shit-eating grin...heh...heh...