A right royal party time for the Queen’s jubilee

THIS may not come as much of a newsflash, but it’s the Queen’s 60th anniversary of being the Queen of England. Sixty years of matching hats, gloves, and asking ‘and what do you do?’

While the Queen is undoubtedly a nice lady — she went down as smoothly as a cream tea on her visit to Ireland, a visit which made everyone feel like proper grown up friends and neighbours — it’s the basic concept of ‘royal’ which requires such massive suspension of disbelief. You know, like ‘werewolf’ or ‘transubstantiation’.

Having an Irish passport and an Irish accent in England absolves you entirely from any royal debate — you are forever a citizen, never a subject. You can have great fun winding up your English friends with this fact, simply by chanting “Subject, subject, subject” at them, which is childish, I know, yet drives people satisfyingly mad.

However, everyone seems to be embracing this 60th anniversary, via everything from faint irony to faint jingoism. It’s like punk never happened. God Save The Queen? They appear to mean it, maaaan. Or at least the marketing departments do. Marmite has been temporarily rebranded Ma’amite. The humble Kit Kat has been patriotically renamed the Brit Kat.

You can’t move for red white and blue bunting, cupcake cases, flags, Queen masks, paper hats, napkins, wind-up corgis, tablecloths, plates, souvenir books, souvenir shortbread, tea caddies, ice cream scoops, knickers, ties, tiaras, aprons, mugs, teddies, keyrings, frames, cushions — there are even Jubilee iPhone cases.

You can get Union flag truffles in heart-shaped boxes, Jubilee pretend champagne, red white and blue umbrellas, scarves, purses, trivia games (which undoubtedly avoid all references to Diana), playing cards, crystal glasses, Queen-emblazoned china. What you cannot get, unless you leave the country, is away from it.

But why would you? Being Irish and free, you can sit back and enjoy the proceedings without getting too het up. Plus, away from the tabloidy flag waving, there is a retro feel to all of this. Life in 2012 remains a bit scary and uncertain, hence the stampede to a softer, Vaseline-lensed past where street parties happened instead of riots, where good china teapots and cake stands hadn’t been replaced by McWrapping and cardboard coffee buckets in primo, grande, and vente.

I will be doing what any sensible citizen of a republic would do this Jubilee bank holiday — retiring deep into the freest, greenest countryside until it’s all over. Toodlepip.