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Tag Archives: Diamond Jubilee

catastrophe, just barely averted

BREAKING NEWS from MoT‘s Department of Sleuthing and Stealthy Covertness: although the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee appears to have gone off with nary a hitch (no small feat considering the potential for nervous horses, tarnished silver, and fascinator malfunctions), the Royal world came to the brink of disaster at an otherwise garden-variety meet-and-greet at the Royal Academy of Arts.  Astonishingly, the hero was a nasty, ugly, horrible tie.

still recovering

The photographic evidence above reveals the near-volatile situation that might have been unleashed by dangerous levels of handsomeness.  Longtime Taste favorite Michael Sheen and Tasty newcomer Tom Hiddleston were allowed to coexist in a few cubic meters of space (there’s a reason they didn’t share any screen time in Midnight in Paris and it’s not plot-related).  Precarious as this equation might have been, it COULD HAVE BEEN WORSE: MoT understands that just prior to the photo above being snapped, King Crumpet Colin Firth was standing in the immediate vicinity, but was–in the very nick of time–tackled and replaced by the mystery man in the horrible, but life-saving tie.  The obviously shaken Oscar-winner was quoted as saying “no one likes to be part of such a violent and near-earth-shattering incident, but, being as swoonfully introspective and handsomely thoughtful as I am, I intend to use this to make myself even more so and, you know, generally firthier.”

No doubt planted by MI6, the as-yet unidentified man–or, rather, his astonishingly repulsive neckwear (so fantastically ugly that it distracted any of our attention at all from Messrs. Hiddleston and Sheen) thus prohibited an impossibly handsome photo from being circulated world-wide and the resultant, cataclysmic chain reaction estrogen surge that would have been a more powerful force than any jolt from the Tesseract.  You think an inter-dimensional portal opening to the dread power of a Chitauri army is a problem?  You don’t know anything.

also lets the water run while he’s brushing

The entire Matters of Taste staff and its global network of partners and allies extends its heartfelt thanks to the nameless mystery man and his dustrag, which we hope and pray was a Father’s Day gift, since no one should grow to adulthood with that level of taste.  But then again, we recognize that this event reveals that once in a while, bad taste is not only acceptable, but may be downright lifesaving.

UPDATE: IT COULD HAVE BEEN EVEN WORSE!  It was revealed later in the evening that outside of the event, Bono barred Daniel Craig from even crossing the threshold–not by force, but by the mere threat of another speech about global poverty, climate change, social injustice and/or threats to publish his knowledge of Craig’s lax approach to separating the aluminum from the paper in recycling bins.

The Queen offers another medal or knighthood or something to Bono: “Jolly good show, young man; how would you like the Pitcairn Islands?  I’m not using them anyway.”

party like the Queen, yo

this one made us delirious

2012 is shaping up to be one of the merriest of years in merrie olde England.  For the engineers in MoT‘s Celebratoria, which is housed in the Department of Festive Studies and Fun-Time Rituals, that means overtime.  Significant projects have bene undertaken (supported by funds from a MacArthur Fellowship . . . that we’re still waiting for) to celebrate, albeit long-distance, all manner of Britophilia.  In addition to a whole new year of hat-wearing by the Kate The Nearly Impeccable (any new hat day is reason enough for the full MoT staff to drop everything and pop open the clotted cream with a shout of huzzah!), a few specific big events are posted on the calendar: the Royal First Anniversary (29 April), C. F. A. Voysey’s 155th Birthday (28 May), the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee (2-5 June) and the Olympics open in London (27 July).  If for some reason you have not received your invitation or secured your tickets for these big events, never fear.  MoT can help you turn your living room into a wee colony of Little Britain in three easy steps and at varying levels of economic investment (to which we are sensitive; times are tough!) and relative interest in the Royal Family (for which we have no sympathy; get with the program, mate!).

the MoT staff's Royal Anniversary Tea

the MoT staff’s Royal Anniversary Tea

Step 1: Prepare your feast.  British food gets a bad rap but, while it’s not cuisine française, you can navigate your way away from murky fields of kidney pie and eel grossness to the juicy and carboriffic heights of a roasted meat and baked pudding wonderland.  High end:  Eat the kind of thing the Queen and her Jubilee guests will enjoy: roast lamb, Beef Wellington.  A bit less so:  Toad in the Hole with long-simmered onion gravy.  That’s still too much work:  Lay out a proper afternoon tea with scones, clotted cream, jam, sandwiches, cakes (and if you go to the Italian Bakery down the street because your staff pastry chefs threw the whole pan of cakes–pan included–into the rubbish bin in frustration, we won’t tell).  Don’t know a Chelsea Bun from an Eccles Cake:  Cut the crusts off your kids’ PB&J, butter up some English muffins, and call it good.

one lump or two?

Step 2: Plan your attire.  High end: Bring out the gloves, gems and regalia, if you have them.  I’ve Got a Hot Glue Gun and I’m Not Afraid to Use It: Spend $10 at Hobby Lobby and become your neighborhood Philip Treacy.  Make fascinators for yourself, your friends, your children, your dog.  You must be kidding: Please, at least wear something that needs ironing.  Iron it.  Not allowed: Scorn your droll guests who wear their Sex Pistols t-shirts from college; it’s neither ironic nor clever.

Step 3: After taking gratuitous picture of Dog In Fascinator and dealing with the resultant canine thrashing, blot spilled tea with paper towel, spritz with a solution of water and vinegar.  If carpet stain persists, gently rub with dish detergent or salt, alternate with more cold-water dabbing.  Tune in BBC, turn up volume loud enough to drown out complaints of husband.  Proceed with festivities.

There you have it: the MoT Geek Guide to Britophilia in three easy steps.  Cheerio!

cats may also celebrate, even if they defy any monarchy they don’t control

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