Mr Thomas Wiggins
9 Bradmill Gardens
Her Majesty The Queen
Sunday 20th September 2015
Firstly, I would like to take this opportunity to congratulate Your Majesty on becoming Britain’s longest-reigning monarch. I speak for the vast majority of the British public and The Commonwealth when I say your reign is an exceptional achievement and long may it continue.
Please accept this letter as a formal invitation to attend my 30th birthday party on Saturday 4th June 2016. My birthday actually falls on 8th June, but no one wants to party on a Wednesday, apart from Prince Harry (allegedly). Details as to arrival time and venue have yet to be finalised, but it will almost certainly be held in Gloucester (for The Royal Sat Nav, it will be within half a mile of Edward II’s tomb). A buffet (Mr Tesco’s version of a banquet) of finger food (egg sandwiches, sausage rolls, pork pies, cheese straws, quiche etc.) and a disco playing a selection of contemporary pop hits as well as some of the old classics will no doubt add to the polite, mild-mannered yet fervently patriotic shindig to mark the anniversary of my birth.
I would also like to elevate the celebration via a popular surrealistic social lubricant by declaring it a fancy dress party. This might cause some reluctance to attend on your part, which is understandable given your position as Head of State. But Your Majesty need not worry - I have thought long and hard about it in order to put Ma’am most at ease. I had almost settled on the theme of a “onesie” party, but it occurred to me – in spite of their unparalleled comfort, popularity and its subsequent admission onto Scrabble boards and into The Oxford English Dictionary - that you might not be entirely comfortable in such casual clothing outside the realms of The Royal Sofa.
I have therefore decided to pursue a theme with which, over the past 63 years, you have not been altogether unfamiliar, and therefore cordially invite my friends and family, including Your Royal Highness, to come as The Queen. The overwhelming irony of the theme has not escaped me; while others may seek out costumes emulating or parodying The Queen, the decision-making process for you – given the depth of your wardrobe and, rather more importantly, owing to the fact that you actually are The Queen – is free of failure. Even if Ma’am came to the party decidedly undressed, you will still be The Queen, though it is an image - for the sake of decency and my head - that I will not for a second dwell upon. To come as The Queen – that is, to come as Yourself – any dress, rather than fancy dress, is sufficient means by which to come as You.
Despite the absolute inevitability of success, there are certain options within this fancy dress you might want to explore. With the addition of an indefinite article, Your Majesty might want to come in “a fancy dress”, which wouldn’t stretch the theme too far. This might mean digging out and dusting off the dress you were married or coronated in. Another option is to come - like the rest of us - as a parody of Yourself, in which case you’ll find a great selection of fancy dress costumes of varying quality on eBay.
I am sure Your Majesty receives many invitations to fancy dress parties. If, by way of an administrative error, themes from two separate parties are mixed up and turn you up as someone or something else, say, Slash from Guns ‘n’ Roses, or a turkey, then help is at hand. I will make sure a private room set aside for you. After brief foray as a chain-smoking eighties rockstar intended for another fancy dress party in Durham on the following Tuesday - you may remove, detach and stub out all props associated with your mistaken identity, before recommencing your role as Yourself, an impersonation Yourself or a parody of Yourself, depending on Ma’am’s personal preference. In any case, please forgive my lazy and inappropriate use of juxtaposition at Your Majesty’s expense, but Slash really was the first person who popped into my head.
A word on crowns: they are optional and dependent on personal budgets, but I would say that some of my friends and family are likely to wear crowns and the last thing I would want is Your Majesty to feel in any way upstaged or underdressed (I don’t know whether “crown envy” is a thing in royal circles) if you decided to leave the castle/palace without yours. We will be presenting the “Best Costume” trophy and other similar awards towards the end of the night and it will be excruciatingly embarrassing for everyone involved if you came second.
I would also like to point out that dancing shoes with gel insoles are advisable but by no means obligatory. And if you have a cake knife, please bring it with you. The icing on my Gran’s fruitcake has been almost impenetrable since my 16th birthday and I fear its density may get the better of us if it doesn’t have the authoritative weight of solid silver bearing down on it.
I would like to point out that in spite of this letter’s overuse of quotation marks as well as regular and pronounced occurrences of irony and other forms of Britishness, I hope that this invitation is received with a similarly high degree of earnestness with which it was sent.
This invitation does come with a “Plus One et al” – that is, another significant member of the British Monarchy and others, including royal aides, security personnel and assistants/servants in order to make your visit as comfortable as possible.
Please send your RSVP to the address at the head of this letter along with Your Majesty’s song requests (a maximum of five, not including The National Anthem, which will be played irrespective of Your Majesty’s attendance). If this date doesn’t clash with any other official engagements, it would be my absolute honour to have your attendance. Helen Mirren is on standby, but she does have a bit of a temper so you are very much my first choice. My finest bone china will be polished from now until Christmas in hope, eagerness and anticipation of Your Majesty’s response.
I have the honour to be, Madam, Your Majesty's humble and obedient servant.