ANOTHER COSTLY PANTOMIME IN LONDON PARTLY PAID FOR BY US

Every year Elizabeth Queen of Scots and various other places, has the demeaning job of reading out the words of such literary luminaries as Dave Big Society Cameron, the posh boy; Gordon Moral Compass Nokia Broon, the clunking mobile; Pope Tony Blair I, the war criminal; John Egg Woman Underpants Major, the bore, and Margaret WE have become a Grandmother Thatcher, the loonie.

It is a ridiculous job for someone of 87 and should be delegated to a kitchen maid or under gardener at Buck House or anyone who can read.

The script is so leaden that even Larry Olivier would have had a job to put any life into it. Given that speaking has never been the Queens forté I found myself thinking that maybe they could offer the gig to Sandi Toksvig next year. She's every bit as posh and a lot more animated. Not sure she'd like the costume though!

It is ridiculous in the 21st century that the head of state be wheeled out to perform this preposterous  duty, which should, by democratic right, have absolutely nothing to do with her.

And at what cost?

I'm sure that it would be impossible to get a proper costing for today's meaningless event. They would cite security as the reason, but it must have cost tens of millions. They will say that it is great for tourism. Aye well, that's as maybe, but I'm not noticing any more tourists in Clachnacuddin, or Ecclefechan. So, I'm all right Jock Boris can celebrate.

The Queen was driven from Buckingham Palace to the palace of Westminster in a new state coach, which was the gift of an Australian. The poor man, one Jim Frecklington, mortgaged his house to pay the bill of $5 million. Nice gift to get for the woman who has everything. Trouble is "everything" includes a fine collection of state coaches. So maybe next time, Jim, you could get her a gift token, but not a Harrod's one. Since they accused her husband of murder she's had to start shopping in Liberty.

The contents of the Speech from the Throne (well it sounds like Cameron wrote it when on the lavatory, so I suppose it is appropriate) was its usual boring self. People complain that there are only 11 bills and that MPs will have an easy year doing next to nothing for their money (like that was something new). In any case they have a lot of "bills" of their own, settees and curtains to be purchased. After all some of them will pretty surely lose their seats, eh Danny, then who will buy their furniture for them?

Personally I think that the less they do, the less mess they are liable to make and I don't give a flying fig if they sit around on their back sides doing nothing all year.

Most of the new legislation will apply only to England, although I suppose Scotland had to pay its share of today's medieval pantomime. But again, that's fine with me. I really don't want that pile of toffs making any laws I have to live by and that they will end up making a good cash profit from.

Since the House of Lords took away Scotland's right to control fracking in the country, I expect the new bill making it legal for companies to frack under your house if they want to is a tad on the worrying side. But there are a lot of MPs and Lords with serious interests in fracking, so it is bound to pass with little fuss and a few greased palms. We just have to cross our fingers for September 18 on that one.

The only excitement of the day occurred when a pageboy fainted as the Queen was speaking, or droning on, about what her cack handed government was going to do. Right wing Tory MP Mark Pritchard gushed that: "The Queen carried on reading without interruption. As ever Her Majesty was the consummate professional." I suppose the oily little sod is aiming for a knighthood or a seat in the lords when his constituents get fed up of him.

In any case, I'd have had a great more time for a woman who as a mother, grandmother and great grandmother, would have shown a little concern for a fellow human being who was taken ill. After all, when the boy fell to the floor it could have been that he had died. 

Think how she could have endeared herself to people had she stopped reading Cameron's crap and shown some concern for the lad.

Kudos to Charles and Mrs Parker Bowles who appeared to have notice and may have even cared a little.