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Slice of Coronation Cake

I received an official letter; they posted it through my door.

I noticed, On His Majesty's Service, as it lay there on the floor

Initially surprised that Buckingham Palace’s postmark wasn't flash

More surprised it had arrived at all, an invitation to Charlie's bash,

I was interested to consider which attire would suit me best

So I viewed the coronation of the late Queen, our Lilibet

A morning suit in mid-tone grey sourced online from a Hong Kong store

I'll truly look amazing entering through the Abbey's great wooden doors

I came away from my computer, watched the kettle as it quickly boils.

Indulging minor comforts whilst opening my letter from the Royals

With dunkable biscuits ready and a union-jack mug full of tea,

But it wasn't a royal invitation that was thoughtfully despatched to me

Surely not. This can't possibly be true. I'm faint, my stomach feels strange.

It's just an inland revenue letter about an income tax code change

I've recently become employed again, I'm doing some part-time work.

Now I feel so idiotic. Feeling like a complete and utter berk.

Coronation day for our new King and I'm at home, sofa cushions plumped

My TV tuned to the BBC. I'm feeling proud, and feeling pumped.

I'm dressed in my online finery, a touch overdressed, a little fake

Cock-a-hoop to be British, with a mug of tea and a slice of cake.

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