Post-wedding thoughts from a half-arsed republican…

Most days on this ledge start with a glance at the newspaper headlines online, so this a trudge of a morning for a royal wedding agnostic.

We briefly went to the pub late yesterday afternoon, allowing mother and daughter to chat about the wedding and look at outfits on our girl’s phone.

Feeling saturated with the wedding, having sat before it at work on Saturday in an endless TV loop lasting for hours, I didn’t join in much, other than to praise the young cellist, Sheku Kanneh-Mason, and the gospel sway of Stand By Me.

The burden of being a half-arsed republican is that you try to take a polite interest in royal weddings, while inwardly chuntering: “Oh, can’t we all shup up about that now.”

I was happy to see Prince Harry marry Megan Markle, as they do seem to delight in each other’s company; but only happy in the way that you might walk past a wedding and think, “Oh, that’s nice.”

Other people’s weddings really aren’t all that interesting, unless loved ones or friends are involved.

Saturday’s nuptials are widely seen as having been a triumph, with Trevor Kavanagh, for example, writing in the Sun this morning: “Hollywood would kill for the sort of ratings our royal soap scored on Saturday. This was a truly uplifting occasion it showed this country is world class.”

Oh, I guess you can be ‘world class’ at one thing while being bottom-of-the-class at everything else; good at faintly ridiculous pomp and circumstance, while also dragging the country through the endless deeply quarrelsome maze of Brexit; good at royal fluff and puff while still having a struggling health service and councils – Tory councils, too – running out of money thanks to the cuts; good at royal processions while privatised rail services are bailed out by the taxpayer, and so on.

But I’ll stop myself before I end up sounding like Jeremy Corbyn.

It is hard to avoid most royal weddings; and it’s been near impossible to dodge this one. In the unlikely event that you are feeling unsated, today’s newspapers contain endless coverage and commentary.

The Mail flourishes a “sumptuous 32-page souvenir photo-album” and promises: “The secret royal asides – by our lip reader.” Ah, a colleague at work on Saturday said: “The papers will all be using lip readers” and it seems he was right.

The Times plays a straight bat, with a picture of the couple and the strapline: “Souvenir supplement: the marriage of the Duke and Duchess of Sussex.”

Many of the papers draw attention to Meghan’s personal views, with the Telegraph opting for: “Meghan to fight for feminism.”

The Daily Star lamely offers: “Royal wedding bits you missed.”

Of course, the royals are the unofficial patron saints of the world’s media, proving endless copy with the ‘ups’ such as a wedding on a sunny day in May. Then providing even more copy when things go on the slide.

A tremendous amount of hope and significance now rests on the shoulders of one American actor with a huge new role to play. Can Meghan Markle live up to her billing; or is it all part of the best survival show in town, with the royal family using a glamorous mixed-race outsider to add sheen to the old silver?

For modern royals, it seems a shame that Harry and Meghan have been given that silly Sussex title, but I suppose most people will just use their names anyway.

Anyway, this half-arsed republican – once “fully arsed” but I wore myself out disliking the royals – has had more than enough for now.

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