It’s great to see that the Royal wedding list has been released, but at the same time it is a source of huge disappointment to have not yet received a gold leafed invite, the post around here is appalling. Only when trawling through the list of guests do you begin realise that the people in this elite group of our society exist on a totally different plane. They are people you are never ever likely to come across in your life who have access to quite extraordinary amounts of inbred riches and land ownership. They also have some of the most preposterous names I have ever seen in my life!

There is Edward Innes-Ker, son of the 10th Duke of Roxburghe (where is that exactly?), Bear McLean, Charlie Savory, Heir to Thorpland Hall, Verity Evatts (James C…  Blunt’s ex girlfriend), Thomas Van Straubanzee, David Jardine-Patterson, Liz Sebag-Montefiore, Sir Henry Cheape (now there’s an ironic name), who owns the Strathtyrum Estate in St Andrews, Oliver Chadwyck-Healey, Virginia Fraser, daughter of Lord Strathalmond, Alasdair Coutts-Wood, Lady Laura Marsham, daughter of Julian Marsham, the 8th Earl of Romley and Sam Waley-Cohen.

Phew this is hard work, but I’ll keep going just for you, also invited are; Alicia Fox-Pitt, Meghann Gunderman,  anyone called Legge-Bourke, Lord and Lady Tollemache’s sons Edward and James, Arthur Landon (his feet) who has inherited a fortune of £200 million, Laura Bechtolsheimer, an equestrian in the British dressage team, Lady Natasha Rufus Isaacs,  The Duke and Duchess of Northumberland, Davina Duckworth-Chad (any relation to Terry duckworth from Corrie?) Arabella Musgrave, Isabella Anstruther-Gough-Calthorpe (I love that one, triple barrelled!!!), William Hartley Russell,  Alexander Hood the 4th Viscount of Bridport, Jamie Lowther-Pinkerton and Lady David Beckham-Victoria of the average footballing, poor singing stupid pout and plastic tits empire.

However, my favourite on the list and someone I would love to have the pleasure to meet should my invite turn up, is a member of the so called “Glosse Posse” called Amanda Bush. Amanda is nicknamed “Bouncing Tigger” because she apparently has a “very lively” personality. I reckon, reading between the lines, that there is more to this nickname than first meets the eye, and in fact, Amanda “bounces” her way round Royal circles like a jackhammer with the button stuck down. Bouncing Tigger indeed, I bet Bush isn’t even her real surname the little Minx!

There are some very real reasons why I feel I should have been on the guest list for this, the greatest occasion since the birth of Christ. Firstly, I was bought up on a large estate (albeit an AWE one), secondly, I am a massive fan of The Royals (Reading FC) and thirdly I was born in Reading and bought up in Baughurst, which if you look on the map, are both quite near Buckleberry, so I am in fact as common as Kate is, if not more common. I certainly don’t see myself as better than her just because I was educated at The Hurst and she at Marlborough. Class is no barrier to me, she is welcome to visit my carboard box house in Hatch Warren anytime she likes, just as long as she wipes her feet or takes her shoes off.

I also have Royal connections, there is Sir John Madjeski, the Reading FC chairman (invited) who once shook my hand, Lord Benyon the land owner (also invited), who once called me me a rodent as he chased me off his land and finally, Andrew Ferguson (brother of Sarah and not invited), who I have had the pleasure of playing cricket and sharing a beer with on many occasions. Surely that is enough to get me on the list, or maybe they just think I am a Catholic? I’m not, I’m not, I promise I’m not, I even know some of the verses of “God Save The Queen” (and I don’t mean the fascist regime version either).

However, I’ll tell you who always gets a bloody invite, Elton bloody John, that’s who, what he going to do this time, sing “Candle on the Polo pitch” or something or is he just there as a token Jester? Rowan Atkinson always seems to be on the list of these events as well. What is he there for, to do his spectacularly unfunny Mr Bean act, is that what the Royals really like? But alas, even with my strong Royal connections that are listed above, I will not get an invite, as you see, I am in fact a peasant and as a peasant it is my job to scramble enough money together to get a second class train to London so I can gormlessley wave a union jack at the elite as they drive past me on their way to having the party of their lives at the the expense of the tax payer. I must admit, I would probably do the same if I was them, it must be a right laugh quoffing back vintage Champagne and caviar as the rest of the country tries to scrape itself off the floor of the worst recession for seventy years, a recession that was (and this is ironic *Alanis Morrisette, if you are reading) caused by many of the guests sat at the tables around you.

In the meantime, if my invite does turn up, I will get my best suit out and pop along, if only to meet the ‘Bouncing Tigger’ from the Glosse Posse and the wonderfully named Isabella Anstruther-Gough-Calthorpe!

Fuck me, you couldn’t make it up could you?

*Alanis Morrisette was a piss poor singer from the 1990’s who preposterously claimed in one of her songs that “finding ten thousand spoons when all you need is a knife” was in fact, a definition of irony.