For the last couple of weeks we have been bombarded with news about the wedding of the century. I’ve had to sit down with excitement.

I grew up in the era of the Diana wedding. Just seven years old, I was allowed to stay up till the wee hours of the morning to watch.

My mother must have known something was amiss when her seven-year-old son sat for hours in front of the tiny television waiting for a glimpse of the dress. When the car was seen coming, the room was hushed into silence, then a cheer as this meringue-like creature came out.

Oh, I wanted to look like that, a walking cream cake, with a tiara of diamonds and a train that needed the strength of an Olympic athlete to pull it through the church.

The images stayed with me for years so the excitement of William and Kate’s big day brought it all back.

I had to work on the wedding day so everything was on delay for me. I watched the telecast hours after the event had happened, still just as excited. The wedding was about excitement, glamour, colour and movement.

And about an everyday girl becoming a princess — isn’t it most of our dreams to meet Prince Charming and have him sweep us off our feet? Whether you wear the dress or the suit, it’s the fairytale of sparkle which had me back as that little boy watching Diana for the first time.

Talking about dresses, you could see who among the wedding guests had their own gay. Kate was classic and beautiful, with padded hips to make her waist look smaller. She had her own gay working with her there.

Her sister Pippa may have stolen the show — absolutely beautiful, giving enough boob to excite those watching but not enough to ruffle the canary-like Queen. With lines and a neckline like that, there must have been a gay boy or girl behind that creation. Victoria Beckham has her own gay, her husband David (all right, wishful thinking!).

But two who are desperately screaming out for their own gays are Eugenie and Beatrice. Oh girls, what were you thinking? Granted they got a mix of both their parents’ genes, we can see that, but we really need to kick a dog a bone. Decked out in Valentino haute couture and Vivienne Westwood, the girls soon caused the giggles of the event.

Surely there is a gay man in the UK who can help these poor girls. Maybe that’s a challenge we need to get on to. ‘Get the York Girls a Gay’ — it’s just screaming a Facebook group. Why didn’t they ask their uncle Edward? I know he is married — but if it walks like a duck!

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