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When Pippa Married James…

As yesterday dawned – bright but with a hint of rain in the air, Bucklebury braced itself for an onslaught of media and celebrity as Pippa Middleton started to prepare herself for the wedding she has spent months organising. The run up to the special day had been picked over in newspapers until there was nothing left to pick at – with readers everywhere wondering how much hype exactly was needed for the wedding of a couple nobody would have heard of, if it hadn’t been for the sister of the bride having married a prince.

With the Beckham’s PR guru, the Queen’s cousin Lady Elizabeth Anson, Prince Charles’s ex valet and now consultant to all things, Michael Fawcett all enlisted to create the perfect spectacle with no expense spared, only time would tell whether the enormous glass marquee would cause the illustrious guests to be deafened by very English rainstorms or not.

As guests started to arrive, with smatterings of recognisable faces such as Roger Federer and Princess Eugenie, a small crowd waited to see if Meghan Markle would make an appearance. As time went on, it became clear that we wouldn’t get a glimpse of the eagerly-anticipated royal girlfriend, as Princes William and Harry strolled in to St Marks’ Church, Englefield alone.

Carole Middleton appeared in pale pink, escorted by son and marshmallow entrepreneur, James. She appeared to wave with glee to the onlookers, smiling with what can only be described as a recently-filled face. Certainly, puffier than I have ever seen her before. She must rub her hands in delight at the conclusion sending her children to the ‘right places to meet’ the ‘right people’ has brought.

Michael Middleton, as ever, seemed less keen on the media but very proud of his youngest daughter. I wonder at times what he makes of the media storm other members of his family have whipped up. I wonder if he has a man-shed and a secret bottle of whisky somewhere on the Middleton Manor estate?

The Duchess of Cambridge turned up escorting the tiny bridesmaids and unfortunately pantalooned pageboys. She seemed stressed by having to get small people from the car to the church door, and was completely oblivious to the pageboy who decided to make V signals at the massed crowds. Wearing a peachy beige matchy matchy outfit that had already creased and wasn’t fitted properly around the bodice, Kate’s matron of honour role looked more than slightly awkward. By the time the party was leaving the church, she had already had to scold a weeping Prince George, control a confused looking, but very cute, Princess Charlotte and ineffectively manage a bunch of primary school children with rose petal baskets. Doting husband, William, was nowhere in sight, preferring to hang around with his brother and reality star best man, Spencer Matthews.

For the bride however, we must reserve praise. Pippa’s Giles Deacon designed dress was elegant and beautifully made, with delicate attention to detail. Her gossamer veil held in place by a deceptively simple, sparkling diamond tiara from Robinson Pelham. Pippa has clearly planned her bridal outfit for a very long time and her dogged determination paid off. She looked delighted by everything, and as she took her father’s arm to enter the florally bedecked church, she must have known her choice was a massive success.

An hour or so later, as bells rang out to celebrate this much-hyped union, the two people involved left St Marks looking full of joy. The photographers clicked and the other guests stayed back to allow the couple their moment. Apart from Kate, of course, who milled about at the front trying to look like she knew what to do with the tiny attendants while nanny Maria stayed out of sight. In the end, she got in a car and left for the reception – leaving the newly weds to lead the rest of the party over to Englefield House on foot. A champagne reception awaited.

Later, Pippa and James left in a vintage car for Middleton Manor in Bucklebury, in a scene reminiscent of the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge driving Prince Charles’ Aston Martin from Buckingham Palace to Clarence House following their own afternoon wedding reception.

And as the Duchess herself returned to her parents house, to prepare for the rest of the celebrations, William was again nowhere in sight. I wonder if he was in the man-shed with Mike, hiding from wedding planners and photographers everywhere?

Finally, after a day of waiting, Prince Harry drove up with Meghan Markle in tow (not Merkle, as the unfortunate BBC News Reporter called her) – one solitary blurry snap the only proof that she attended.

As the expected Spitfire swooped over the venue, in a celebratory fly-past (one must keep up with one’s sister) and lights twinkled in the glass marquee, so large it could be seen from the other side of the valley, I wonder if Pippa raised her glass to herself for pulling off the media extravaganza of the year, while Kate – avoiding the canapes – searched in vain for the elusive William.

And readers everywhere sighed in relief.

 

 

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Kelvin Mackenzie and the Hillsborough Legacy

Twenty eight years ago yesterday, one of the worst ever footballing disasters took place at Hillsborough. Ninety six Liverpool Football Club fans left their homes to spend the afternoon watching their favourite team play in the FA Cup Semi-Final, but never came home. Their deaths a result of huge overcrowding at the Leppings Lane end of the Sheffield ground, and a lack of immediate response from the police and emergency services due to poor management.

We all know the story of the ensuing years of fighting to have justice for the victims – and the final verdict that the dead that day had indeed been ‘unlawfully killed’ rather the victims of an unfortunate accident. Along the way, however, it was not just the victims, their families or those involved whose characters were sullied, but those of an entire city. Liverpool was painted as home to petty criminals who would steal from the dead, self-pitying idiots who would not accept fault for the incident or their supposed part in events that day. The main culprit for such slurs was Sun newspaper editor Kelvin Mackenzie, whose headline of The Truth stood above an article of complete untruths – that fans had urinated on the police, stolen from victims, got what they deserved. Mackenzie’s disdain for the truth and his apparent vendetta against Liverpool continues to this day. His recent article comparing Everton footballer, Ross Barkley who is part Nigerian, to a ‘gorilla’ and implying that the only rich people in Merseyside are footballers or drug dealers, shows an unapologetic and contemptuous mindset against a city who have never forgotten his lies.

Mackenzie was seemingly happy to write that Barkley was ‘dim’ – yet claims that he did not know the footballer was partly Nigerian, therefore excusing his ‘gorilla’ comment. One might presume a journalist should research facts before writing any article – Mackenzie thought he knew enough to opine about Barkley’s intelligence, yet says he did not know anything about his heritage? The racist and derogatory comments about Barkley and Liverpool as a whole suggest Mackenzie is more concerned with writing sensationalist rubbish than anything close to factual, a skill he has apparently not lost since 1989.

It may be twenty eight years since that sunny day in Sheffield turned in to a day of terrible sorrow and injustice, and Liverpool may have finally received the legal verdict it so desperately wanted for those who were lost – but the message that the city will not suffer in silence stands strong. Both Liverpool and Everton football clubs have both now decreed that Sun newspaper journalists are no longer welcome in their stadia or at news conferences, as a direct result of their continued affiliation with Kelvin Mackenzie. One might wonder why The Sun newspaper still continues to employ this man, and what it would take for them to reconsider his position with them?

The legacy of the Hillsborough disaster is not just that the ninety six victims will never be forgotten or that huge steps have been made to protect the public at large events – but also that the city of Liverpool will not tolerate their naysayers, or those who continue to spin lies about the city or the people who live there.

Not then, not now, not ever.

And that includes Kelvin Mackenzie.

 

 

(Image from Getty)