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I went to London last year to visit Buckingham Palace with my step-father who received an MBE for 50 years of voluntary services to the community. Me and two other close friends. It was herself, The Queen who did it, and her nearly 88 at the time. Stood for an hour and a half she did, had 30 second conversation with each recipient.
Then we milled about the Palace afterwards, all wide-eyed and open mouthed. Like an episode of Del and Rodney and the chandelier...
It was class..! No really, it was...

It was Class

Fdf5205c-8b5b-4da8-a6dc-63fe28d680a9by Billy J. Stewart22 Apr 2014

I’ve been to see her, y’know, not that I’d name drop,
But since you ask, I mean Queenie,
Palais de Buck, 1, The Mall, Ye Olde London Town.
It was class.
And guess who else was there…!
Mr Bean, yep, same.
In top hat and tails.
So there we were, in the state ballroom, as you do,
Rubbing shoulders, invading space, sniffing each others commoner odour,
And he brushed past,
All wide-eyed and gangly and awkward.
Just after herself.
She wore green.
Or was it pink, can’t remember.
I swear she looked at me.
I even used the royal loo for a wee and just for a moment…
Couldn’t help thinking if…never mind.
It was class.
Big paintings, gold paint, red carpets, Rolls and Horse-drawn carriages,
And soldier-boys with shiny hats, and big swords,
Still as statues.
A nice band played The Beatles before she spoke, no really.
And on the way out,
I even grabbed a handful of courtyard gravel, I’m such a chav..!
It was class.