So today in the UK, for those of you that are not aware, is a royal wedding and the hype surrounding this means that all we have heard for weeks is women dreaming of being princesses. Given this backdrop I thought it might be worth revisiting an old (but recurring) theme and looking at some of the technical difficulties with the desire to be a princess in the modern world
It seems that more and more I hear women of all ages claiming that they would rather have been born in the 50’s when it was all about making a home for their man and being supported. The wedding has added a twist to it in the fact that dreaming of being a 19050’s housewife just doesn’t cut it when you could be a full fairy-tale princess and marry a prince.
We all have a rough grasp of some fairy-tale or the other where the prince rides in on his white steed and rescues our princess from servitude, transforming her to her rightful position by his side where she lives happily ever after so bear that in mind as we go forward into today.
The problem with these daft girly dreams and the oft heard lament of ‘where is my prince charming’ is that they only happen later in life. You see princess Sharon you didn’t keep your side of the bargain did you?
The princess was to be found on her knees scrubbing the wicked sisters bathroom floor. He probably wouldn’t have been looking for you on your knees snorting a line of cheap coke off the toilet seat or maybe you thought he was staff and played dead?
When the prince arrived with the glass slipper the princess was too shy to come forward and try it on. It’s hard to notice the glass slipper thing going on when you have snuck out the fire door to give Bob from Sainsburys a hand job (he did buy you 4 sambucas and promised you a kebab), you would probably have missed him.
Prince charming breaks the ties of servitude and takes his princess, dressed in rags, to his palace. Now you have made an effort here to be fair, the princess was probably wearing more clothes than you on a Saturday night. There is no mention though of the prince holding the princesses hair back while she vomits in the street (that sambuca was no good for you) and then scooping up her, her hair extensions and her broken heels while she tells him to go easy because she might hurl again.
Prince charming rides in and scoops up our princess onto his glistening white steed and rides off into the sunset. Does the story have the same ring when you take one look at the horse and say ‘where’s my baby gonna sit?’ There is no riding off into the sunset for you is there Sharon, well not unless you stop at home and ‘bung our eldest a score for pizza cos he is babysitting’.
This is before we look at the complexities of home curfew in a castle after the court appearance for ‘twatting that skank’ who said that you gave Bob a handjob outside the club. After all it is hard work to make a tagging bracelet work in a castle, maybe back up the tower to grow your hair? Then there is wear and tear on the carriage taking the kids to their respective fathers for the weekend, it’s a lot to think about.
You see nobody ever thinks of the prince, he hasn’t got it easy unless he meets you at 15 and locks you in a tower (that’s a whole different story). There are prince charmings out there but if you want one you’re gonna have to stick with your side of the bargain Sharon and that won’t be any fun when you’re 17 will it? You know what Bob ain’t a bad bloke, he does a bit of overtime twice a month and gets a discount on oven chips for the kids. Get your heels on girl, who knows it might be 5 sambucas tonight and you know how much Alfie wants a little brother……..
Before I get pilloried for this one no names have any meaning (except for the prince, he is the stuff of legends) it’s just a bit of fun.