Somewhere in Newspaperland, somewhere in TVNewsland, there exists a Plain of Bliss, a prairie where children skip through waist high wild flowers while butterflies dance on the gentle warm breeze, a place of no worries, no debts, no bills to pay, it never rains on the Plain of Bliss, its never cold and wet and miserable, daylight savings time doesn’t exist, its sunny when you awake and it goes dark when you sleep, you never have to get up early to go to work or rummage for change down the back of the settee for your bus fare this morning – its a land of ecstasy a place where people smile in the street for no apparent reason and butchers delivery boys still whistle music hall songs as they ride their heavy old fashioned bikes down your street.
This, apparently , is where the population of the UK were magically transported to yesterday lunchtime, a Ga-Ga land of smiling imbeciles where everything is “just fine thank you” simply because a Prince decides to marry a wench of his acquaintance.
There is a popular myth that the day Buddy Holly died in that tragic airplane crash was “the day the music died”, well yesterday in the UK will forever be known now as “the day that everything else died” for according to ALL of the TV News (some of which were extended by up to half an hour) and ALL of the newspapers, nothing else at all happened yesterday.
They are still talking about it now, as I type on “Good Morning” they are picking a dress designer for Kate Middleton and yes I’m sure that Kate Middleton is sat up in bed right now clutching a pot of tea and watching them browse the various options, nodding wisely, making notes, declaring “I never thought of that, how fortuitous that I tuned in”, and even before we know what day their wedding is going to be the Rupert Murdoch Press have declared a public holiday for us all, well thats nice then, I’ll add it to my company holiday planner for next year, increase my allowance by one day – then see what happens.
Somewhere out there in the rest of the world a foreign power has probably just detonated a nuclear device in an act of aggression against this country, our country may have been declared bankrupt by the World Bank and all our assets frozen, food imports may be prevented by port blockades, we could all be starving on the streets by this time next week (or maybe in a months time in my case, its good to carry a few extra pounds just in case) – but we’d never know about it much less care about it because the whole country, according to all news media, is in a state of joyous celebration, an LSD-like trip of higher and delighted consciousness at the news of a Royal Wedding …
Meanwhile, back at the ranch life continues as normal, people still rise at 6am, peer out through the curtains at another dull, cold wet morning that won’t get light for at least another hour after they’ve arrived at work, they’ll go about their work, come home in the dark, eat food and go to bed to do the same thing tomorrow and the day after and the only time they’ll mention the forthcoming Royal Wedding is to say “Is this all thats on TV tonight” or more pertinently “How much is all this bollax going to cost and is this why VAT’s going up in the New Year ?”