THERE has never been a love as pure, as selfless or as holy as that of William and Kate. Compared to their marriage, yours is a sordid shag in a back-alley.
And today, as they celebrate their 10th anniversary, your relationship looks even more worthless next to their refined perfection.
Do you genuinely think that your 22-year marriage, two children and financial security can hold a candle to the utopian devotion of Britain’s shining couple? You insult them by even thinking it.
Compared to them, your marriage is a loveless afternoon coupling between sales reps in a by-the-hour hotel in a bleak Midlands town. It is two mongrels locked in coitus in a park.
When you hold hands on the sofa watching TV, that is two tramps drinking cider in a wet cardboard box compared to Wills and Kate doing the same. Your fond smiles are cracked, toothless grins compared to the heavenly radiance of their beams.
When they make love, the angels cry and reward them with blissful, wonderful offspring that delight the world. When you rut like beasts you produce annoying brats who no one would ever want to see on a calendar.
So bow your heads, accept that you are nothing, and worship them. Worship their sublime magnificence. And buy a commemorative tea-towel.