Rumproast Exclusive! First Glimpse of Royal Glamour Couple

              Who Are All These People Darling?

We’ve seen the dress! We’ve seen the dress!  You won’t be seeing any other Access Blog scooping the world media, but that’s what our massive search-engine haxxing skills are for.

What other blog offers you 24 hour coverage of stories we had no idea were happening until our insomnia drove us to turn on the television and say, “Oh! That thing is today!” The royal couple has lined Westminster Abbey with maple trees, btw, because maple trees indicate modesty, we are informed, and nothing says modest like importing a grove of trees into Westminster Abbey. Well, it’s better than Burnham Wood, anyway.

This is a De Facto open thread for anybody insane enough to be up at this hour, (with the exception of our UK friends, who should be up and losing a day of productivity by now). A drinking game involving ostrich feather hats could be devised, I’m sure. It isn’t too early, is it? Or late?

Posted by Mrs. Polly on 04/29/11 at 03:41 AM • Permalink

Categories: I Don't Know Much About Art, But I Know What I LikeImagesKnee SlappersMessylaneousTelevision

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Oh Mrs. Polly - I must confess: I’m off to a girly wedding brunch, complete with plastic tiaras. We get to drink a glass of bubbly every time the word ‘commoner’ is uttered. We predict we will all be blootered by 11:03 GST. As to what YAFB may be thinking, it’s probably unutterable.

Oh hell’s bells, Ms. YAFB, they put on a great show! And you can hiss the pols you don’t like. Enjoy!

Mr. Polly staggered out and blinked at the screen. “Royal wedding,“I said.

“F*** the Royal wedding.” He said elegantly.

Me, I’m just here for the hats.

Assorted VIPs are proceeding majestically through the London streets in airport vans. I withdraw my remark about the great show.

No, in fact the airport vans debouching royals in feathered solar topees was in fact a hilarious show.

Prince of I-will-NEVER-be-king in a good old Phantom IV RR. None of these nasty smushed-nose Rolls-Royces for him.

And the President will be visiting next month, when the Queen can explain WHAT HAPPENED TO THE INVITE, Lilybet?

KATE MIDDLETON STUFFED INTO A ROLLS.

It has sleeves. And cleavage. All we can really see is her cleavage. “A magnificent view!” Raves the announcer.

I am NOT up for the royal wedding! I just happened to be awake. And then I happened to turn on the teevee for a news update, and there it was. 

Awww, the little flower girls and pages are awfully cute!

Mrs. YAFB, have one for us!

Did you see the Queen scramble out of the car? She’s a hale and hearty octogenarian. And what a YELLOW dress!

Kate unstuffed.  Train rather less fabric than anticipated. Here comes everybody!

The Queen looked like a daffodil, walks better than I do (in heels, anyway} and did not have the ugliest hat. God save the Queen’s hatter!

Harry looks quite dashing.

They’re singing the hymn featured in the opening sequence of “The African Queen.”

She got the names right!

Harry’s quite the hunk. Wills was doing all right until his follicles stepped in, but he is still a lovely roundcheeked baby relic of a discredited institution, and now they are a Duke and Duchess, which seems rather a comedown and recalls a certain redheaded bride….

Mercy, did you see the hat of the woman who was sitting directly behind the Queen? It was a taupe thing with kind of a circular headpiece flanked by feathers. For a minute I thought Lady Gaga crashed the wedding.

See, this is where most of us would throw the bouquet and beat a hasty exit, but thet are obliged to listen to an hour of exortations to live peaceably and weep when they would weep etc.

Betty, there are terrible millinary atrocities being committed in there. Flying saucers landing in fields of roughage, feather explosions coming out of the sides of ladies’ heads as if someone had fired an ostrich bazooka from the other side~~it’s brutal.

Ridiculous! At that point in my wedding, I was well into my second flute of champers, and here the poor things are listening to bishops droning on…

Oh marriage should this and marriage should that~~but hey, they have a favorite motet! That’s sweet.

I think Mr. Polly and my favorite motet was “Zing Went the Strings of My Heart.”

terrible millinary atrocities

not to be catty but Sarah Ferguson’s daughters’ hats were awful

and I’m only up because the husband was snoring and it was either strangle him or watch the wedding.

Welcome to the Insomniac Entertainment Netwoek, Terry!

here’s the hat

You just know those sweet little choir boys are longing to rip their ruffly collars off…

That’s the one, Terry! Yeesh.

Someone standing behind Sir Elton is wearing an outstretched albatross. They do say it’s good luck if one follows you.

Ah, finally a hymn we really know. And on to the paperwork!

That’s not a hat, it’s a French Horn helmet. I hope she’ll give us a solo!

I have to say the camera shot from the top of the Abbey is pretty cool.

Oh heavenly father, you are so very huge…

And next to her is a woman in a crab-claw & sea-urchin affair. Not very sight-line friendly.

But to the carriages past the gantlet of avian carnage!

I think it’s so cute that the Queen carries a little handbag. Why would she? Couldn’t she assign a Lady-in-Waiting pack-mule duty and dispense with purses altogether?

birth certificate?  what birth certificate??

:-)

Bwtty, unlike the PUMA fantasists’ most cherished belief, the Queen apparently does use her handbag to send signals to her peeps, like “Make up some reason to get my Royal personage out of here NOW!”

All right, an hour of picture-taking before the Balcony and the Kiss and the desperate search for facilities. Pretty much standard.

As to what YAFB may be thinking, it’s probably unutterable.

Having eventually found a radio station that isn’t broadcasting proceedings, I’m just accustoming myself to the fact that the Queen’s Special Dispensation means we loyal subjects can each choose a title for ourselves to celebrate the occasion.

I hope you don’t mind, but henceforth we are to be referred to as Lord and Lady Rump of the Roast. (No need to curtsy or genuflect, but I’ll have a pink gin while you’re down there.) I’ve ordered some cards and letterheads, but the robes will have to await the next Primark sale.

I’ve found some robes for your Lordship! You’ll still need a coronet, though. Perhaps Lady R. can snag one for you from her girly drinking party!

I hardly think a tiara of cocktail umbrellas will project the dignitas my new role demands.

On the contrary Brit, a cocktail-umbrella tiara would not only project a seriousness of purpose, it would be geometrically better-looking than the atrocities worn by the Feathered Heads of Europe this morning.

It would reek of class.

Nah. It would clash with Her Ladyship’s deely boppers.

The Queen is shooing the wedding party off the balcony, and I quite agree with her. Loved the Battle of Britain flyover, though I thought strafing the crowd was perhaps overdoing it, and the Spitfire’s death-spiral into the Victoria Memorial a little theatric.

I chalk it up to a general cheapening of public taste directly traceable to James Cameron. I don’t know how, but it is.

As the other, non-YAFB resident of this green and sceptred isle, I’d like to say that I do not give the tiniest shit about the wedding, aside from the fact that it will be used as evidence in the forthcoming trial following the new glorious revolution.

The Queen is shooing the wedding party off the balcony

I’m not watching, but I should explain that this is a traditional ceremonial re-enactment of the Second Defenestration of Prague. The remains will be scooped up from the courtyard below and fed to the Queen’s Hounds, so this is a green, 21st-century Royal family.

Eiher that, or you misstyped “shooting,” in which case the rest of the day may not go quite as planned.

Mike, all I can say is that if there are beheadings, a lot of milliners will starve. But you’ll have the thanks of a grateful nation of ostriches.

Are they natural-born ostriches, though?

Woke up just in time for the kiss on the balcony. The Dress is rather dull, but that donut hat! The horror! I love these events, though, they get to break out all the coaches and cars.

That little bag over Her Majesty’s arm is just large enough to fit a sweet little revolver, a couple of breath mints, and a folding crown. But I think the little lady wasn’t packin’, or else the Fergalettes’ chapeaus would be aerated.

That little bag over Her Majesty’s arm

It actually contains the “football” and the codes for the deathstar in permanent geostationary orbit over Fleet Street. She hasn’t used it yet, but it’s only a matter of time.

@Twinky: one of the coachmen seemed to be wearing a grizzled periwig that an eighteenth-century bootblack would have scorned.

I don’t know if you’ve ever read any of the Patrick O’Brian sea-novels, but the guy would be perfect to play Dr. Maturin.

Boris Johnson Alert! Yay! 

(NBC only, I think.)

It actually contains the “football” and the codes for the deathstar.

The Obama visit is might be rockier than I thought.

Boris Johnson Alert! Yay! 

[Quoting Bill in “Kill Bill”] I like his hair.

That’s actually a very nice shade of yellow on the Queen. Not as intense as I expected.

OMG, our local weather girl came on wearing a giant hat! Hilarious! The local news is going to continue coverage all day, kinda like they do when we have a snow storm. Mmmkay.

Mr. Polly is now up and in full F*** the Royals mode so we are watching Boris on sufferance.

Nope, couldn’t hear him through the cursing. So they’re parasites! They wear gold braid, have no power, and make the Old feel good.

Now he’s grumbling about the size of the train. I can understand, since every step she took crushed a worker’s dreams.

Now we’re watching a movie about giant ants. But are there hats? Nooooooooo.

OK, the perpetrator (or perpeTRAITOR) of the Fergalette’s French Horn hat is one Philip Treacy, who earlier caparisoned one of them as a giant green pea, rather cruel as she is, like me, somewhat pea-shaped.

No idea what the other pod-sister was wearing. Oh, excuse me. She was a moving target.

Mean Mr. Treacy.

A fashion designer was on MSNBC awhile back, and while he refused to name names, he said some of the royals’ print fabric choices could only be described as “shower curtain material.” Of course, everyone piled on the French Horn hat.

The British Milliners’ Association, if there is one, should all be made to join the Horse Marines, unless they agreed to review Royal Wedding the movie, My Fair Lady, and all the vintage hats on Etsy, so that they might be brought again to remember how to be the glory they are supposed to be.

I remember when the great Helen Mirren won her first Golden Globe, and went to the podium under what seemed to be an egret’s nest during molting season. It was a terrible shock, and only later did I realize it was a British belief that wearing feathers is a good thing for a lady who isn’t necessarily a stripper.

This thread is awesomely hilarious.
@Mrs. Polly, in a just world, you would be able to make a fine living doing this kind of commentary.

Fergalette’s French Horn hat is one Philip Treacy

Should have known, he was also responsible for the giant vagina on Project Runway.

I didn’t watch, and I don’t really care, except that I cannot resist the post-event fashion analysis.  It’s so great to see a bride in a dress that isn’t strapless.

On the “Ouch!” side, I expect that many many ladies’ feet will be really hurting before long.  Oh, those tiny bits of leather with stakes glued to one end.

And the fabulous hat of Princess Bea!  I think she must have waylaid and killed a Chaos Demon, and fashioned his antlers into that cunning little chapeau.

This is ever so much fun. I forgot all about Disaster Girl!

I don’t know if you’ve ever read any of the Patrick O’Brian sea-novels, but the guy would be perfect to play Dr. Maturin.

That’s my favorite historical series Mrs. P. I will never forgive that Australian fuckwhistle absolutely destroying the beauty, look and feel to O’Brain’s masterpiece by making “Master and Commander” a movie. With a gangly, 6-4 Dr. Maturin (my all-time favorite fictional character).

I have the entire series of books within easy reach and can pick any volume and dive right back in.

Oh, and Mrs. P? You have to update the photo. Willy wore his Irish Guards Colonel’s uniform with his Air Corps sash and wings, along with his Nile Medal, Garter (only in Britain does the groom throw out his garter, feckin’ weirdos, those Brits), order of the Pastrami Sandwich, Ratters Medal and the “Golden Horn of Hounding” or some such shit like that.

Well, I didn’t get up especially for it but it was on when I got up so . . .

Full disclosure - we have DVR’d it for later viewing in toto because, well, ROYAL WEDDING!! PRINCES AND PRINCESSES!!  DUH!

And I justify it all by noting that it is both a form of stimulus spending and lulz.

SCREW YA’LL.

I’m looking at various internet slideshows, and I lurve all dem fucking hats, even the beige French horn thingie.

The Fergalette’s hats are HI-LARIOUS.

Posh Spice is pretty stunning—I know she’s preggers but DAY-UM I’d knock-off my own version of that dress if I knew anything about draping.

Kate did not look like a big meringue. That’s a win, right there.

The Queen’s yellow was beautiful, she looks like a daffodil. And the Middleton girls are stunningly beautiful. I wonder if Pippa (I like to call her ‘Pips’) is up for a pint this evening.

Huh, Mike said he wasn’t even there.

Comment by HumboldtBlue on 04/29/11 at 01:08 PM

Actually, HB, I said I didn’t give the tiniest shit.  I don’t remember specifying whether I was sprawled in a gutter somewhere…

WINRAR!

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