Royal

(based on suggestions from @pinknantucket, @_camer0n, @timsterne, @marklawrence, @TheEndeavour, @slimejam, @realnixwilliams, @snazzydee)

Don’t want to give the wrong impression

about monarchs. They’re no butterflies.

He’s not a mis-heard lyric and

she’s not an ill-placed homophone.

No one mistakes Groban for Mr Hankie

in the after-dinner set list.

Confirm the banquet menu.

Kipfler or kestrel or King Edward?

Mini Yorkshires or cottage pie?

Anyone who says “Let them eat Kate”

will find themselves with takeway noodles

quicksmart. Zero tolerance pho puns.

The date looms like an oversized tiara.

Important issues like pet names –

Pickle and Honey puff?

Big Willie and Babykins?

Don’t see any votes for Squidgy.

Funny thing, that. Discuss.

Even if I was still fourteen

You wouldn’t see a royal poster

gracing the paint adjacent to

my Take That wall. Mark Owen’s

come-hither tattoo was enough of a

fantasy for this princess, sweetheart.

_____________________________________________

Today's poem is based on suggestions from eight peeps:

• @pinknantucket: “pickle and honey puff”
• @_camer0n: “Lady Mondegreen and Mrs Malaprop” (apologies to Prince William for making him into a lady)
• @timsterne: “Monarchs!”
• @marklawrence: “kipfler potatoes. And pho.”
• @TheEndeavour: “confirmation, tiaras!”
• @slimejam: “Romance misconstrued. As defecation.”
• @realnixwilliams: “MY POSTER OF TAKE THAT FROM THE CD I HAD WHEN I WAS A TEENAGER, literally the only band poster I had on my wall back then!”
• @snazzydee: “Perhaps ‘come-hither’ could make an appearance”

Obviously I had to make it about the Royal Wedding. Right? No choice. *cough*