With all the recent hoohah and flapdoodle surrounding everyone’s favorite non-royals, I thought I would go reflect to happier times, before lucrative Netflix deals and huge interviews with Oprah.  Back before these plucky innocents were undoubtedly tormented by the trappings of incredible wealth and status and privilege through their being members of the British monarchy.  So here for all eyes to see is my unbelievable connection with Meghan and Harry, back in the simpler, olden times of 2018…

Imagine my disbelief when I found myself bound for England from Milwaukee!  After all, there are no direct flights from America’s Dairyland to the United Kingdom, so I’m sure the pilots were surprised as well.  But as I was summoned to attend the royalest of all the royal weddings being held in May 2018, travel arrangements were made by powers far above my measly pay grade.

After receiving the email invite in my spam folder, I had no choice but to attend.  I don’t recall when I first met Harry, but I must have made a memorable impression on him the last time we stood in the same line at the DMV.  As for the lovely Meghan, all I can say is that I knew enough about the show Suits to realize I had never watched it.  With firm relationships like these, I can readily understand why I got the royal nod to be present at these nuptials.

Yes folks, here’s where Harry and I met! His license plate read “RYL 4 EVA”.

The hardest part of the journey across the pond (FYI: it really was an ocean, not a pond!) was bringing along the Cuisinart that I just knew the couple would love!  Since I didn’t want my elaborate network of bows and fluffery on the box to get crushed in some common overhead compartment, I purchased a first-class ticket for my gift.  Meanwhile, back in coach, I would ask my flight attendant to check every 7 minutes that all first-class courtesies were given to what the world would soon come to know as the Royal Cuisinart.

Granted, the couple had registered elsewhere, mainly at Hammacher Schlemmer and Dick’s Sporting Goods.  Figuring that most of the kiss-ups would already pounce on those obvious places, I went further down their registry lists, stopping at www.lilquackers.com.  I purchased a basket of chocolate covered live baby ducks for them as the bronzed ones they picked out admittedly looked rather tacky next to the Cuisinart. 

So you’re telling me this is really a show? Huh. Well, I guess I’ll take your word for it.

As the plane landed at Heathrow, I was surrounded by the glitz and the glamour that comes when you are a wedding guest of the royal couple!  It was a whirlwind and British people seemed to be everywhere!  Har and Megs were great and absolutely loved the Cuisinart after I explained what it was.  They also obviously enjoyed that I was aping Dick Van Dyke’s accent from Mary Poppins the entire time.  After the requisite questions I had about John Cleese and Winston Churchill, we left this tommy rot with a pip pip, guv’ner! 

We immediately departed for this great party at Buckingham Palace.  There was this needle nosed old duffer named Charlie that seemed rather creepy. Still, Charlie’s mother Camilla seemed nice.  There was also an old lady named Lizzie who was an absolute blast!  She knocked back the Long Island iced teas with a knowing level of experience!  Lizzie was also telling me her uncle had a fondness for schnapps, but she didn’t elaborate.  Harry-Harry-So-Contrary and Megalopolis then popped in some Chumbawamba and we partied hard in London, Britain: the biggest little Empire in the world!

The wedding itself was just like a wonderful dream that is covered in glitter while surrounded by chiffon that was enchanted by whimsy after being bludgeoned with adorableness!  The pomp and circumstances of pompnitude were absolutely outstanding. I felt just like a newly purchased tin of biscuits. (Biscuits!  I love that the Queen has told her subjects what to call things in England.  It is so cute!) 

Here is a sampler basket before the patented chocolating process! 
It’s Quackalicious!

Clearly, we were a little bit hungover prior to the service.  Luckily, Hardy-Har knew plenty of “harry of the dog that bit you” remedies as he called them! Megzilla was simply wonderful too!  I never saw anyone do that many handstands in a wedding gown before, but she pulled them off with élan, if I can borrow a Canadian term.

The celeb sighting was crazy too!  I talked with Joe Piscopo on the way into the chapel.  He’s totally cool!  Then I chatted with none other than the effervescent Jean Claude Van Damme who was seated next to the ever-charming Valerie Bertinelli.  The royal couple had Stephen Fry play the officiating bishop and he was hilarious before the real film crew arrived!  Also spotted: Vince Gill, Triple H, Melissa Joan Hart, Hal Linden, Judge Reinhold, Cheri Oteri, Walter Koenig, and the late great Robert Goulet. 

Joe Piscopo or Jean Claude Van Damme? You decide! They’re both great!

I also thought I saw George Clooney but it turned out it was Jason Alexander instead of the Clooney Tune!  Jason explained to me that there had to be at least one Seinfeld cast member at each regal event per a royal edict that was given back in 1996.  He was jazzed because Wayne Knight was usually tapped for this kind of occasion.

Best of all was seeing the Oak Ridge Boys doing the preservice music.  They sounded great!  Vince Gill even joined them for a brief rendition of Jerry Reed’s “She’s Got the Goldmine, I Got the Shaft”.  It brought overwhelming chills through every pew.  Oh, that reminds me: I saw David Beckham also in attendance for some reason.  I don’t know how he got in.  He probably tagged along with somebody famous.

As we sat down in the chapel, I was originally next to some guy named Andy who claimed to be Harry’s uncle.  Whatever, buddy.  I think the guy was a crasher because he said he was once married to Fergie.  That’s ridiculous! Fergie’s fast-paced recording schedule means she doesn’t have time for a guy that’s like 4 times her age!  As it turned out, I had mistakenly sat down by him and my reserved seat was elsewhere.

A pleasant candid shot of Charlie’s mum, Camilla. She’s the one in the middle.

This is where I must clarify an issue regarding the royal wedding that happened while I was in the United Britain Kingdom of Wales and Surrounding Acres.  A lot has been made of the so-called tribute to the late Princess Diana because there was an open seat left next to William.  This is an absolute load of total bollocks!  The truth is…that was MY seat!

After I was shuffled over from Andy, I took a seat by Billy who was between me and that weird Charlie dude.  Then out of nowhere there’s this old fart behind me, complaining that my rather spiffy top hat was blocking his view of the proceedings!  I wanted to turn around and say, “Hey buddy, I don’t care if you remember your dad losing the American colonies, I’m trying to look my best here, you tosser!” 

Who got this duffer a ticket anyway?  Harrykins and Megalodon got me over here to celebrate the day and then Lord Methuselah Higginsbotham III or whoever this guy is gets all whiny in the back?  I was more put out that Lizzie didn’t stand up for me.  She was sitting right next to this coot!  Apparently, she was more hungover than she let on and was trying to nap through her headache.  I’m sure that potted plant on her head wasn’t helping matters either.

The arrow points to my original seat. Lord Dimwitty was behind me next to Lizzie.

So, I moved away because I didn’t want to create a scene that would distract from the ceremony that public access stations were broadcasting all over the planet and greater Iowa.  Fortunately, the various aides and imperial stevedores found me another seat over by one of the Spice Girls, Onion Powder, I think, and they made Beckham stand in the back, where he should have been in the first place.  My new longtime friend and personal confidant Joe Piscopo nodded with approval.

And that was about it for the ceremony.  Neil Young was an atypical choice to play at the reception, but he was great!  Knowing that “After the Gold Rush” is not a dance tune, he added a mild disco beat for the new couple.  His opener was either Robert Plant and Jimmy Page or someone’s elderly aunts.  Given the amount of wrinkled cleavage and scarves, it’s a toss-up since I couldn’t tell from where I was sitting.  “Kashmir” sounded tired and old, but again: a toss-up. 

All please rise. The Royal Cuisinart has arrived.

Har-Har and Meg-Meg invited me to go along on the honeymoon, but as I roast instead of tan, I sadly declined.  Their understanding sighs of relief appeared to be sympathetic and we parted ways after a warm and reluctant hug.  I knew the feeling.  Plus, they were halfway through their duck basket and wanted to get going on their assuredly romantic trip to Barbados via Omaha.

I’ll never forget this amazing experience for as long as I live!  Well, that is until I do.  Thankfully, as the royals ostensibly have a very liberal attitude towards pilfering, the commemorative silver set I now possess will always be a tangible reminder of a simply magical moment when I dashingly mingled with one of the best royal families that England has to offer.    

Published by benjaminawink

Being at best a lackadaisical procrastinator, this is purely an exercise in maintaining a writing habit for yours truly. This will obviously lead to the lucrative and inevitable book/movie/infomercial deal. I promise to never engage in hyperbole about my blog, which will be the greatest blog mankind has ever known since blogs started back in 1543. I won't promise anything other than a few laughs, a few tears, and maybe, just maybe, a few lessons about how to make smokehouse barbecue in your backyard.

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