Thank you, Mug, for accepting to start this new series of –
I beg your pardon.
I have a title. Sir Mug, if you please. I was knighted for services to breakfast.
I do apologise, Sir Mug. Incidentally, I remember when those two were married. I was camping in Corsica and they showed them on the telly in the bar. But then a fire broke out and everyone had to leave, which was quite appropriate, really, since they later became quite a burning issue… Sorry about that. Anyway, now I get to interview you, which is the next best thing to interviewing them, I suppose. First of all, what are you doing in my cupboard?
Your parents bought me. There were very keen on the royal family, you know.
Oh, yes. Mum especially. A great fan, though she thought the Princess a bit of a flibbertigibbet, to be honest. What’s your view?
A fish out of water, poor thing. Never had a life to call her own. In the space of a few years, she went from vacuous to valiant to vanished.
But you’re still here, over 30 years later. You’ve been dropped several times but you seem quite indestructible.
More than the marriage, anyway, ha, ha! But in fact I’m a lucky survivor. We were sextuplets originally but only two of us are left. So you’ll have to be extra careful from now on.
Why, are you actually worth something?
You’re kidding! We were churned out by the million. No, I mean as a souvenir. Sentimental value and all that. So please make sure I don’t break.
OK, I’ll do my best. But they’re disappearing anyway. Every time I put you in the dishwasher, they come out a little paler. How does that feel? A few molecules of C and D getting washed away all the time.
It’s a little distressing, I must admit. After all, they’re my identity, aren’t they? I mean, but for the grace of God, I could’ve been the Sex Pistols – ghastly!
I see. You’re a bit of a snob, then, are you?
I wouldn’t say that. But one does have standards to maintain. And naturally, I love our dear Queen. Not that it makes much difference in the end, as you say. When C and D are all washed away, I’ll just be an old white mug.
A bit like Charles, in fact. But tell me, what’s it like being a mug? Cupboard, coffee, dishwasher, back to cupboard. A bit dull, surely?
Not really. Mugs are creatures of habit, you know. Of course, I prefer the summer, when I get to see a bit of the garden. But the cupboard’s a great place to relax, we’ve got a little shelf of our own. There are some quite colourful characters in there, but I get on best with this big Canadian guy called Vancouver. We’re the only two souvenir mugs so we have that common bond. And of course they do love the Queen out there in BC. I’m quite pally with the horoscope mug as well, but he gets on my nerves at times. Keeps telling me what my day’s going to be like, but he always gets it wrong. If he says I’ll be chosen for breakfast, it’s a safe bet I’ll come out for tea instead. Still, I try to stay calm – no point flying off the handle, is there?
No, indeed. Well, thank you anyway, Sir Mug, for this insight into cupboard life. And let’s just hope those C and D molecules stay with you a few more years.