Countdown to the royal divorce - part 1

My friends at the Kingsley Web log have tried to deflect attention away from the local area by repetitively reporting that the royal honeymoon is to take place in Scotland.

I posted the following riposte:

“Mediawatch and his cohorts in the national press and worldwide television networks may try to mislead you, but there is a very strong Kingsley connection. Honeymoon at Birkhall be buggered. Astute visitors will have noticed a very strong rocking motion from a large and expensive looking motorhome that was parked in the car park at the Kingsley Centre this evening, surrounded by armoured vehicles.
And visitors to the weekly car boot sale at Country Market tomorrow might well be lucky in picking up some spectacular bargains in the form of unwanted wedding presents.”

I can now reveal the reasons for my shock absence from today’s festivities. I have been busy putting the finishing touches to the arrangements to accommodate the royal couple in our prestigious settlement. Fortunately, coverage of the Test match did not begin until three o’clock, and so the duties were not too arduous.

It is because we have managed to disguise the popularity of Kingsley among the world’s royal families, that it is still so much in demand. The extensive boating lake, the ancient monuments (the Saxon village hall) and the newly equipped playground make it an irresistible draw to the more discerning visitor, for whom expense is no barrier.

Of course, Charles is a little nervous about being too far away from his trusted friends, which is why I agreed to be on hand in case he gets anxious during the first days of his new marital partnership. Frankly, I hope that he desists from knocking on my door at seven in the morning with some trivial problem, but I am not over-optimistic.

I would urge you all to be respectful and stay away from the village for the next few days. I know that this will be a disappointment, and many of you will be at a loss to find alternative attractions. If you are truly incapable of curbing your urges, then at least observe some decorum if you notice a slightly bewildered and anxious looking gentleman and his bizarre spouse strolling through the village or the surrounding lanes. It is no coincidence that Kingsley is in the middle of MoD property, and those misguided persons thinking that they have something profound or witty to shout at our visitors, might find themselves carrying round slightly more lead than they began the day with.

The Cornwalls will be taking tea with me tomorrow. I can’t say that I am looking forward to it. He has no conversation, and she has too much. Last time they called, India were batting and I missed Dravid getting his century. Then the silly tart misheard the reference to Ganguly, spat crumbs all over the carpet, and guffawed so loudly that the Canada geese on my pond were startled and I had to pay £640 to have the goosecrap scraped off of my roof.