Well, well, didn't the Queen look nice, all teeny weeny and wrinkly in yellow, like a little sherbet lemon carrying a handbag. The bride was beautiful of course, and her sister's pretty tidy too, I wouldn't know who's leg to hump first if I was round at their house. What about Harry though, was it just me or was he walking like he'd filled his pants? Will's clearly has the DoE/Charles bald patch, but Harry seems to have a most unroyal thick mop of hair doesn't he? Strange that, the lucky bastard. The Duchess of Kent looked like she'd just had a couple of wisdom teeth extracted, and as for Eugenie and Beatrice, oh lord, let's just say that they've obviously inherited their mother's class. I had no idea that they lived in Middlesbrough until I saw them. That grand old British institution Sir Elt was there, with his chum David, no strangers to going up the aisle either of them. Beckham was there too, with his praying mantis. And did anyone apart...

This morning I found a pooh in the woods that looks a bit like the Duke of Edinburgh, so I've posted that off to the happy couple, I do hope they like it. Long and thin, with a bit of grey fluff stuck to one end it was. I could have put it on eBay, but I thought no, that'll be something to adorn any mantelpiece that will. I was going to have it mounted on a polished wooden plinth but there simply wasn't the time. So I just popped it into a clingfilm roll holder and DHL'd it off. Is nothing sacred though? Sponsorship is creeping into everything these days, with tomorrow's wedding taking place at Westminster Santander as it's now called. I'm fully expecting the buffet to be sponsored by Iceland and have Jason Donovan and that stupid Kerry Katona tart dancing round the living room at Buck House passing round the vol-au-vents, an absolute bargain at two quid for three dozen, whilst stocks last. And call me bitter if you like, seeing as I just got edged out at th...

If they're not really sure if he's American, how confident are they that Michelle is actually a woman. I mean she's pretty big for a woman isn't she? She towered over the Queen like Usain Bolt getting introduced to Daphne off Eggheads the last time I saw them on the telly. And those kids, they're just too perfect to be real kids as well aren't they? It must be like a scene from Invasion of the Body Snatchers when they go to be at night I reckon. Pooh count: three, or four if you count the one behind the settee.

...is shit isn't it? I only watch it to keep the two-leggeds happy. Talk about far-fetched as well, not like reality TV shows such as DeadEnders or Corrie. They show it like it really is. I mean, when was the last time you saw Ken Barlow toting a magic screwdriver? Exactly, you aren't going to get that in Wetherby or wherever it is they live are you? No. Endex. Or large jellyfish-like monsters supping at the bar in the Rovers, well not since Fred died anyway. It's all baloney. A waste of the licence payer's money, that's what me Dad calls it. And bollox as well, he calls it that sometimes. Pooh count: a comfy seven (unless you count the runny one down by the cycle path in which case it's fifteen).

Are you going? Apparently the last place up for grabs was a toss up between me and Victoria Beckham, and she just got the nod due to her husband's "services to industry". We all know what industry he's been supporting, and lets just say it's quite an old fashioned profession shall we? I mean, we've all got skeletons in our cupboard, it's just a little odd that he chooses to take his out in public with him isn't it? I think I'll watch it on Sky....

I love it, a time for religious reflection, Chunky Kit Kat eggs, morality, the old fashioned values of what Easter is all about, wind-up bunnies and Dr Who not this commercialised junket in which we have found ourselves unceremoniously embroiled within. And a great opportunity to eat (and roll in) shit, obviously. I also managed to shovel down a couple of dozen seasonal rabbit droppings whilst out on the morning sojourn with cousin Paddy this morning, or M&M's as we call them. Jesus wasn't too keen on them, they kept slipping through the holes in his hands, apparently. Pooh count: a devout six. Shabba.