Finally, the finishing line is visible for Waity Katie. And just in case you failed to spot the person (or the event) behind that burdensome nickname, Kate Middleton, of stolid middle-class stock, is set to wed a slightly younger Prince William Arthur Philip Louis of Wales, the second in line to the British throne, sometime in 2011. The British royalty is jubilant (a slightly arched smile, in the event, would be in keeping with the ‘stiff upper lip’ coda), the wine makers and souvenir sellers are gearing up to make a fast buck, Kate must be patting herself on the back for surviving the eight-year-long haul while the British economy is expected to be richer by a billion dollars.
The run-up to the marriage of the royal heir with the attractive daughter of a couple selling paper bags online will no doubt generate enough fodder for the racy British tabloids. To sustain that interest, however, William and Kate must jazz up the script from the current vapid ‘we are not party animals and only devoted to each other’ line. Cannabis-smoking, paparazzi-bashing Harry might offer valuable inputs.
What, you may ask, is in it for us? Surely, we have more than our adequate share of maharajas. We are also the global destination for regal weddings, and our majestic palaces, replete with horses, elephants and people in blindingly resplendent attire is enough to lure any blueblood wannabe from anywhere in the world. But we do not grudge the Britishers their little cheer, coming in the midst of much economic gloom, and almost suspect that it is a feel-good missive from the future monarch to his harried subjects. As the British papers would say, it is all “flim, flam and speculation” now.