The highest levels of British society are reacting with dismay to the news that Prince William is to marry from below stairs.
"Really!" spat The Honourable Arabella Snyde-Custom, near Sloane Square. "Next you'll expect me to believe these larks at Foxtons are more than de rigeur!"
"And it doesn't stop there," added Lady Moronica Fairleigh-Symple, with whom she was school. "There's only the other one and then we're out of first rank royalty altogether. What's to happen to the people who built this country? And more importantly, to their daughters? Being appointed High Sherriff some day is hardly adequate consolation, is it? Have you seen the hat?"
"They speak of modernizing," hissed the Dowager Countess of Giltwood, under the mistaken impression she was speaking down the line to someone suitable. "'Let us modernize the monarchy.' Well, what good can come of that? I've got a really lovely, serviceable chamber pot under my bed. Why on earth should I give that up so long as I have strength in my legs and a sturdy girl from the village? No good can come from modernizing, just as no good can come from a girl raised in a house with working central heat!
"It is quite simply the worst thing to happen since these awful civil partnerships. Once they decide what to call a boy Duchess, our girls will relly, relly be in a fix. In my day one only worried about Oscar Wilde prowling about the place during a shooting party, with a fistful of bacon fat and that public school gleam in his eye. But anymore you've got women like this Middlebrow chit and Harriet Harman running about upsetting things. It's a disgrace! We did not fight the war for this!"