Bread and sinuses...

 

'Are you sure, Pooh?'

'It's what I've heard, Piglet.'

'It all sounds very complicated.'

'Question of timing, apparently.  Tight schedule.  The Eurovision finals are on the 13th and His Royal Highhorse's ceremony is on the 6th.'

'I'm not sure it's Highhorse, Pooh.'

'Are you sure you're not sure?'

'I'm cert--well, anyway...so he's being allowed a late entry for Eurovision?'

'A gift from the world, it seems.'

'And he'll be--'

'Singing it halfway through his ceremony, yes.'

'What's it called?'

'"Boom-Bang-A-Pledge."'

'Ah.'

'And the nation has a part to play.'

'Does it, now?'

'Yes, there's a rap bit where they all have to cry out in unison.'

'Cry out?'

'Yes--swearing allegiance to the country's core values.'

'Remind me.'

'In order of resonance, fidelity, union, community, kinship--then quick pause for breath--then obedience, fairness and fortitude.'

'I see.  And that's tout ensemble?'

'Ooh, Piglet, nifty bit of French, eh?'

'I have a smattering, Pooh.  Plume de ma tante.  Bonjour, concierge.  Guillotine.'

'Well, yes, tout ensemble.  And they'll be required to yell the values twice.  Mind you, the tempo picks up at the end, I'm told, so it might just be the initials.  No decision on that yet.'

'It all sounds--quite something.'

'It will be.  Celebrities rapping along with your everyday folk--one of whom has been chosen at random to officiate.'

'That's nice.  Who is it?'

'Well, it was going to be Louise of Cannock, but she'll be at a hen do in Antwerp, so it's Dean of Westminster.'

'Ah...fancy.'

'Oh, it'll be fancy, all right.  All the stars out in force.'

'A celebration in the grand tradition.'

'Roman tradition, you might almost say, Piglet.  Bread and sinuses.'

'I suppose Mr Titchmarsh will be of the starry number.'

'Should be...unless he's detained.'

'Detained?'

'Having to coddle his spuds.'

'Ah, well, not an activity for shared space.'

'It might provoke comment.'