It is nice to see Liz back on form and making fun of some drug addled geriatrics:
Had they bothered to do their homework, these saps would know that she is an authority on rock music, and has a vast collection of CD’s, and a video of Jimi performing the UK national anthem at a garden party in 1969 where he not only set fire to his guitar, but also princess Anne’s hat. She has a particular fondness for The Who, and I well remember the occasion that she burst into song, doing a passable impersonation of Mr Daltrey, at a reception for the Slovakian ambassador, “I’m not trying to cause a big sensation, just talking ‘bout my loyal nation”. The ambassador told me that he was very impressed, and commended her decorum. King Harald of
Philip leans more towards heavy metal and this is the reason for his padded room at the palace. I wanted to make this clear, as rumours have been spread in the media about strait jackets and such, all of which are quite unfair. He is as sharp and sane now as he has ever been.
Philip called me to discuss choosing music for the wedding. For some odd reason, this has been delegated to him. Not a wise decision I fear, it was only at the last minute that his choice for the bridal music for Sarah Ferguson – Acid Queen – was vetoed. I repeatedly tell him that I am not going, and it would be in everyone’s best interests not to cause any more controversy, but he was very insistent. “If it were left to Charles it would be the Three Degrees and fucking Cliff Richard” he tells me, in a very peeved manner, “at the very least we are going to have some Stones”. “Not ‘Bitch’”, I tell him quite sternly, “and if you value my advice at all, then I would avoid ‘Under My Thumb’ and ‘19th Nervous Breakdown’ as well.”
Things are going to get out of hand, I fear. I have visions of Philip dressed as Lemmy leading the guests in a conga along the ramparts of the castle, shouting “Oi, you poxy peasants” at the general public, again.