Royal duty

It is time for all us gays to bless Our Sacred Mary.

Not that Mary, the mother of Jesus, who has recently had her share of princess-like scandals thanks to Dan Brown’s ridiculous book. I mean the really sacred Mary, Son of Donald, mother of the un-named-at-time-of-print eventual heir to the Danish throne.

If there’s one thing we gays go shit crazy bonkers over, it’s princesses. We fawned and eventually cried over Di. We felt Stephanie’s pain at all of her failed marriages. We even suffered along with Fergie and her ongoing weight crises.

I’m sure that the entire viewing audience of the horror that is Australian Princess (disclaimer: I actually know one of the now-evicted would-be Princesses. The shame!) is gay and/ or lesbian.

Princesses come in many forms. Even the word princess has good and evil meanings, and has become a term of both love and derision at the SSO offices, as in: You look like so much of a gorgeous princess today. Or: Go buy more milk and stop being such a bloody princess about it!

Mary, unlike the Australian Princess Australian Princesses, is -“ as New Idea keeps breathlessly telling us -“ a bona fide Australian Princess. And now she’s got the handsome prince and a male heir and don’t we just love her even more. She’s perfect, so far. Even her ex-boyfriends think she’s a top sort. There are no scandals in her life and she hasn’t even had a bad photo from the gym published.

The difference between her and the sad sacks on Australian Princess is, of course, that Mary was just workin’ in a bridal shop in Flushing, Queens -¦ or something -¦ and she just happened to Slip Inn to a royal wedding. You get the feeling that if she had met a hot brickie from Bankstown that night she would have happily married him. The women on Australian Princess seem desperate, as if they’ve been sharpening their nails for years at the thought of getting them hooked into someone with enough money and status to keep them in Witchery for the rest of their lives.

Ah, reality TV: so much embarrassment, so little time. If only Our Mary had auditioned for Australian Idol a few years ago -“ singing Wind Beneath My Wings perhaps. At least the mags would have something different to write about.