My mum's decorating. The room doesn't need decorating but it's being done nonetheless. On Saturday she gave me a mug she found at the back of the heavy cabinet they had to move. She'd bought one mug each for me and my sister back in 1977.
"To Commemorate the Silver Jubilee of H.M. QUEEN ELIZABETH II 1952 - 1977" it says on the side. And on the back there's a picture of the handsome Duke.
"Where's the safety pin?" I said.
We're not supposed to drink out of it. We're supposed to keep it safe. I said to Betty that maybe my mum thinks this could be the ultimate incentive for us to start a family. Because things like this should be passed down from generation to generation. It is an heirloom.
No mum, it's not going to work. In our dotage we will drive down to some godforsaken market town. It will be pissing with rain and we will jostle our way to the front of the queue to be seen by the current mug expert on the Old Tat Roadshow. He'll say "this is strictly off-camera" but he'll give us "fuck all for the useless piece of shit". Then we can go home and start drinking from it, toasting the Queen and her amazing longevity.