top of page
Search
May you reign with wisdom, humility and a certain funky sense of sass. May all your eggs be perfectly boiled.
May you promote the common good, our sense of shared humanity and our obligations to the conservation of the natural world. May you not perish in a 2am knife fight over an unpaid brothel bill.
May you not trip over untied shoelaces, nor bump into furniture in the dark resulting in stubbed toes, bruises down your regal shins and much cursing. May your numbers come up in a rollover Euromillions draw.
May your carriages never breakdown in a bad part of town, nor attract penalty fines for minor traffic infringements. May your nipples never chafe under your ermine.
May your bread always be toasted just right, neither too little so that is basically warm bread, nor too much so that its charcoal content is hazardous to human health, and may it always bring you crunchy, nourishing, breakfast-y satisfaction. May your servants never revolt.
May you be an attentive and bold lover: gentle when you need to be gentle, assertive when you need to be assertive, experimenting with toys and role play on weekends and religious holidays. May all your orgasms be multiple.
May you never lose a draft email or Word document that you had been working on for ages, causing frustration untold. May your crown not burst any bouncy castles.
May you play centre-back for Huddersfield Town. May you always win at Monopoly.
May your haemorrhoids shrink and your stools be soft, regular and of edifying bouquet. May you break the land-speed record.
May your knitwear and swimming trunks turn heads, and may you not become financially trapped by negative equity or crippling energy bills. May none of your foodstuffs turn before their best-before date.
May you live to 100 and, owing to advances in science, reign to 110.
Long live the king!
People who aren’t interested in the coronation of King Charles III are spending way more time talking about it than people who are a bit interested and will watch it because it’s an historic event. Jeremy Rummage is not interested in the coronation and has told his wife of his disinterest (repeatedly), his neighbours on both sides twice, the postman, the man in the newspaper shop, a dog walker, a queue of people waiting for a bus, the goldfinches using his bird feeder and a squirrel. Jeremy has called those who will watch it quiche loving peasants, crown obsessed mugs and kowtowing serfs. He has been met with nonchalant shrugs and is hoping to meet an ardent royalist in his real life, a good lively one like there seems to be no shortage of on the vox pops on the telly.
bottom of page