Royals, with cheese

With just over three weeks to go until the big day, Kate Middleton has probably got a lot on her mind. But unlike most brides, she’s likely to be focusing on what her married life will involve, rather than worrying about where to seat her alcoholic uncle or trying to neutralize the best man’s embarrassing speech.

Lots of little girls grow up wanting to be a princess, but for the majority, that dream begins and ends in the costumes aisle of Toys R Us. A cheap polyester Cinderella gown is all most kids need to indulge in their juvenile royal fantasies. 

In lieu of an actual fairy godmother, parents with plenty of disposable income and a serious interest in their daughters’ marriage potential, are taking matters into their own hands.  They’re happily spending over £2,500 on a new prep school experience that teaches their little bundles of high-maintenance joy how to be a real princess.

The Kensington-based summer camp shows kids from eight to 11 the ‘art’ of being a royal. Instead of focusing on managing infidelity, hiding an eating disorder and smiling beneficently at tramps, the course offers lessons in good manners, horse riding and the perfect curtsey. And they get to drink a lot of tea.

The founder of ‘Princess Prep’, American Jerramy Fine, has developed a curriculum based on her own life-long desire to become a princess. Her book ‘Someday My Prince Will Come’ describes her journey from the U.S. to Chiswick, in search of an enchanted lifestyle. She explains “'Ever since I was a little girl I’ve wanted to be a princess and I never grew out of it. I just wanted to create something that I would have liked as a girl.”

But even the royal family has to adapt, so some traditional aspects of monarchical living have been replaced with more contemporary scenarios. In addition to lessons in royal history and philanthropy, the girls will be educated in “phone and iPod etiquette”. That means no ‘God Save the Queen’ ringtones or asking Her Majesty if you can borrow her USB charger.

If you’re not creeped out by the idea of an eight year-old girl practising how to deal with boredom, awkward moments and coughing fits, consider the fact that they have to do it in front of 33 year-old Sloaney wearing a paper plate with the Queen’s head printed on it.

The course seems to be a big hit with tiara-loving tweens - two of the three week-long sessions are already fully booked - so Jerramy is now working on expanding her empire. For an authentic royal experience, she may want to cover off seat-belt safety, tipping protocol at The Box, and how to spot a tabloid sting. 

Crowning glory

Well, the wedding preparations are in full swing for the happy couple. The hen night venue's been booked (Bar 86 in Kensington, if you're interested), the wedding list has been prepared (donations to charity or a Breville sandwich toaster) and honeymoon locations are being scouted. Apparently, the Scilly Isles are a hot favourite, although not literally - this is England after all. 

So what are the rest of us to do in the run-up to William and Kate's big day? No doubt there'll be hours of breathless news coverage right up to the moment of conjugal penetration - perhaps Jennie Bond can come out of retirement to talk us through that bit - but even 24/7 reportage is unlikely to satiate our hunger for Royal tittle-tattle.

At times like these, faced with the mundanity of our own drab little lives, we should be thankful for the makers of souvenir memorabilia. That quintessentially British habit of marking any momentous occasion with a celebratory piece of cheaply-printed flatware.

But although plate-makers are currently rubbing their hands together at the prospect of the forthcoming nuptials, other canny industries are also looking for a piece of the hot royal action. Between now and the 29th April, we're going to buried under a tsunami of unwanted ephemera, bearing the happy couple's long-faced likenesses. Cups, flags, banners, bunting, T-shirts, hats - you name it, someone's making it.

Perhaps the most surprising addition to the ever-expanding line-up of commemorative tat, is a new range of 'Crown Jewels' condoms. For just £5.00, you can vicariously participate in the Royal deflowering with a "triumvirate of regal prophylactics". You can't eat a sandwich off them, but just think of the stories you could tell the grandkids.

The official website declares that the 'boîte de capotes' combines "the strength of a Prince with the yielding sensitivity of a Princess-to-be" and "includes a collectable portrait of the Royal Couple as they might appear on their wedding day" although, hopefully, not on their wedding night.

Since you can't ever have innovation without outrage, Ingrid Seward, editor of Majesty Magazine, has criticised the condoms as "completely tasteless and rather hurtful". Was she was hoping they'd be ribbed and flavoured for her pleasure?

Before you get too excited, it's worth pointing out the website's disclaimer: "Crown Jewels Royal Wedding Souvenir Condoms are a novelty condom not suitable for contraception or protection against STDs." So they look the part, but are largely useless. On second thoughts, maybe they're an effective reminder of the happy couple after all.

Best foot forward

Better book the trestle tables from the local church, whip up a batch of sausage rolls, and learn the words to 'God Save The Queen' - there's a royal wedding coming. Who cares about the fact that the Monarchy is an outdated and grotesque institution; just think of the magnificent hats.

On April 29th, even the most avowed anti-royalists will be raising a glass of own-brand fizz to our future king and his bride. After all, it's not every year that we get an extra bank holiday.

It seems as though everyone is getting in on the excitement. Agnetha Fältskog has hinted (in rather oblique terms) that an ABBA reunion might be possible if the band was asked to attend the wedding. And one of Kate's friends has come up with a great hen party idea: shooting illegal immigrants in the East End. Unfortunately, Emma Sayle was cautioned by the police for making racist comments before she had a chance to invite Kate to join in.

Not to worry though, the young couple have plenty of other things to keep their minds off the nerve-wracking nuptials. William has been earmarked by hair loss brand Rogain as their ideal celebrity spokesperson. In a timely press release, they announced "We've been watching Prince William's growing bald spot closely for years, and we believe Rogaine can help…" If nothing else, that lucrative sponsorship deal could help pay for the big day. After all, it's not like they're having a registry office ceremony, followed by a Scotch egg at the local pub.

But if you find that you can't contain your excitement for the next four months, you could always book yourself on a walking tour of the 'William and Kate' love story. Sod the traditional tourist traps for just £15 you could traipse around the streets of the capital and visit such landmarks as Mahiki, where William once declared his reinstated bachelorhood when the couple split in 2007. Or how about the branch of Jigsaw on Dover Street, where Kate briefly worked as an accessories buyer? Failing that, there's the offices where Kate's great-grandfather used to work as a solicitor. Fascinating stuff, I'm sure you'll agree. 

Most of the other stops on the tour are more concerned with Charles and Diana. Even Camilla gets a mention or two along the way. Because, any way you slice it, the young couple simply haven't had the chance to accomplish that much in their short lives. Like Justin Bieber's recent 'autobiography', it's a little too soon to try and concoct a compelling narrative around a story that could almost be told in real time. 

It's economy, stupid

In times of financial crunchery, it's a case of all hands on deck. We're in this together, so we all need to do our bit to watch those pennies and spend wisely. Clearly no stranger to frugality, Prince William has also been feeling the pinch, and has asked staff to book him on economy class flights.

According to a senior courier quoted in the Telegraph over the weekend, '...his default position from now on will be to turn right when he enters an aircraft.' I'm not sure how that works on helicopters (since his position references aircraft, and not just aeroplanes) but good for him.

Apparently, William is 'acutely aware that this is no time for ostentatious expenditure'. Which is good to hear, as he and Kate were actually in the process of jetting off to Courchevel when this story broke. Maybe Bognor was all booked up?