Me, I’m a guy who loves a good abbreviation. For instance, if I were to say that I also hate the furniture in my room, I’d add that it consists of nothing but knobbly elbows that always connect with your nuts when you get up in the middle of the night to relieve the weight of bladder on the ale. Only, that’s not how the Old Blazer would describe it. It would be ornamental bosses impacting testicles, which, if you ask the humble opinion of this Red Tuft, doesn't adequately convey the situation I’d be trying to describe. That situation is best summed up as: two weeks of solid boredom as we royals come to Norfolk to celebrate Christmas.
Then there’s the view from my room. I used to have a nice angle on Zippy Phillip's boudoir but I think she grew suspicious of the way my curtains kept twitching at night and I’ve been moved around to the other wing where I now overlook the farm. From where I’m typing this, I can watch manure steam.
And that’s the real problem with Sandringham: it’s no better than living on a farm. It’s also too crowded. We all get under each other’s feet, which wouldn’t be so bad except Uncle Eddie has to put anti-fungal powder between his toes and we all end up spending the holidays smelling like mustard.
So, if you detect a note of misery in the old Red Tuft today it’s because I’m not at home...
And while I'm complaining, I should add that I’m also damn exhausted.
I thought Christmas this year would mean escaping London and taking some R&R. Only I now find myself in the middle of this mini-crisis over these souvenir coins commemorating next year's Royal Wedding. I refuse to take the blame, of course, and I’ve spent my morning firmly pointing my finger at the Old Blazer who lies at the heart of the spectacular cock up.
It all began when Will asked me to provide a design for the coin. He knows that I enjoy doodling and his plan was that my design would be sent to the Royal Mint where one of their top illustrators would take on the commission, copy my design but fill in the faces with some lifelike resemblances. You know: steely glances, soft pouts, and the usual amateur dramatics in gilt form.
Now, I’m no great shakes as an artist. I hold up my hands to that one. And I certainly find it difficult drawing a likeness when I’ve not got the original sitting in front of me, preferably still and even more preferably buxom and naked. The buxom part certainly makes the artistic juices flow.
Only both Will and the Lovely Brunette were unavailable to sit for me but that was not going to be a problem. The Royal Academy type down at the Royal Mint would sort out the noses from mouths. I needed to only think about the design of the coin so, naturally, I employed a couple of models to stand in for the happy couple.
Nelly Duffy is in charge of the Old Blazer’s washing over at Clarence House. She is a lovely woman who was only too willing to help, but I’m sure she won’t mind mentioning that she has a slightly lazy eye. Young Bill is the window cleaner and general odd job man. He’s the son of Old Bill who did the same job for the past fifty years, and even Older Bill who did it before him. He too was up for a little modelling. Of course, neither Young Bill nor Nelly Duffy look anything like Will and the Lovely Brunette but they had the right shape of heads for the purpose of my design so I slipped them a couple of fivers and had then sit in the corner of my pad for the afternoon as I pencilled them into my plans.
Things when awry once I’d finished designing my coin. I forwarded my sketch to the Old Blazer only for the Old Blazer to perform his duties with his usual indifference to the whole project. Before you know it, he'd passed them on to the Royal Mint with instructions to have them made. Now there are twenty thousand coins depicting Clarence House’s cross-eyed washerwoman and a man who spends most of his time up a ladder cursing London pigeons.
I’m only telling you this so you don’t believe any of the accusations you read in the papers, especially if any of those accusations are directed towards my easel. You should also get in there and buy a coin before the stocks run low. There’s already talk of recalling them in the New Year – or, at least, producing no more when the current stocks run low – so this will be a much more collectable commemorative coin than any other. Not only were they designed by me but they are the only coin minted to celebrate minor members of the royal household.
To my credit, people tell me that I’ve captured Nelly and Bill’s likenesses to perfection. I hope you agree.
Regius Gingiber!
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