Coronation Chicken
‘It is tragic how few people ever “possess their souls” before they die … Most people are other people.
Their thoughts are someone else’s opinions, their lives a mimicry, their passions a quotation.’
Oscar Wilde, De Profundis
Spare me the black ties
Spare me the oaken attitudes, the platitudes of parliament
Spare me Windsor Castle, the Cinque Ports – Calais even, branded on our hearts
Spare me the Tudors and the Stuarts and the Hanovers and the Windsors
Spare me our vestigial appreciation of history – all those lies
Spare me the hurried, ill-fitting suits of the broadcasters
Spare me the gashed shaves eulogising the regal dead
Spare me the reporter’s incongruous green tie which he will regret until the day he dies,
like a dropped catch or a faux pas on falling in love
Spare me love
Spare me the own goals of my own formation
Spare me glib aubades of the cynical
Spare me the practised intonation of the mourners
Spare me the duke of Norfolk’s deliberations, grave though they are
Spare me the funeral if you don’t mind – just speed it up!
Spare me, dammit, the vox populi
Sanction hallucinogens, satire, merriment
Imagine the inappropriate – ten days of public polyamory
Spare me the furtive humour of the mourners, the off-camera mockery
Spare me the despair of Spare, the ruthless brittleness of brothers
Spare me Coronation Chicken
Spare me, in the bowels of Christ, the prime ministerial recollections
Spare me, god help us, John Howard OM or whatever he is
(CREEP – Campaign to Re-Elect the Prime Minister)
Spare me the overhead footage of the purple Bentley bound for the capital
Spare me the honours list, the uncles slaughtered in Flanders
Spare me Aunt Rosemary and her sherried remembrances
Spare me deference, good manners
Above all spare me the impeccable ladies-in-waiting
Bring back Crawfie when she’s needed – all her audacities
Tell us about the crumpets, the naughty French lessons
For god’s sake spare me the Abdication – Uncle David and his ‘ice-veined bitches’
Bring back Wallis! Blessed are the chic!
Spare me the corgis, the pedigrees
Spare me the rumoured infidelities
Spare me the discreet mistresses, the oily-royally correspondents
Spare me the rampant lachrymosity of the subjects
Spare me
Spare me
Spare me