Married men seek super-injunction against royal wedding

but we're not allowed to report on it

Britain’s married men have formally applied for a so-called ‘super-injunction’, in an attempt to prevent the royal wedding of Prince William of Wales and Kate Middleton from being shown on television, ‘or indeed in any form of media whatsoever.’

Speaking outside the Royal Courts of Justice, spokesman Dennis Conningsby explained how he, together with every other married man in the country, is seeking to slap a last-minute non-disclosure order on the organisers of the big day, preventing them from broadcasting the ceremony. ‘For us, the very prospect of a whole day’s worth of royal celebration is simply terrifying. We’ve already had about a month’s worth of respectful toadying on our tellies, what with all those documentaries and wedding specials in that cloyingly measured tone of the BBC royal correspondent – it’s got to stop and it’s got to stop now.’

Experts believe that the royal wedding will be directly responsible for the temporary breakdown of over a million marriages this weekend, as Britain’s entire population of male spouses desert their homes and families in a desperate attempt to escape the bunting and cucumber sandwiches made by their wives in a frenzy of patriotic activity. ‘She’s even got a Union Jack vest for the bloody dog for Christ’s sake,’ complained Conningsby. ‘Don’t get me wrong – I’m as happy for Wills ‘n’ Kate as the next man – but come on: forking out fifty quid for a knitted toilet cover in the shape of the happy couple is taking the piss!’

It is predicted that it will be standing room only along Britain’s rivers and lakesides, as vast numbers of men suddenly develop an interest in fishing, while there have already been reported scuffles outside golf courses, model railway shops and DIY stores, where queues of married men are already forming. ‘I thought I’d just ride the next few days out in my allotment,’ revealed one such refugee, ‘but when I got there I discovered at least a dozen other blokes on my patch, pottering around in a vain attempt to look busy. Okay so the purple sprouting has never been so free of weeds, but where can I go? The shed’s already full to bursting. If I have to sit there listening to the missus and her mother cooing over the wedding dress – well, I’d rather cut my own head off with a trowel.’

‘Unless there’s some way of getting this bloody wedding off the TV, we’re all doomed,’ another married man concurred. ‘Imagine the scene: millions of men staring vacantly at all that pomp and circumstance – driven into brain-dead imbecility after watching the umpteenth fawning interview with the butcher of whatever horribly middle-class Home Counties village the bride comes from. Let me tell you – I’d be battering down the door of the nearest TV-less pub, where I’d slowly get pissed for the next eight hours if I didn’t have to officiate at the bleedin’ thing. Sod it; I think I’ll do that anyway.’

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Posted: Apr 28th, 2011 by

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