Creaming Spires

Oh em gee. Big Willy is getting married to Babykins! I’m talking, bien sur, about the royal engagement, which does sound like a euphemism for a sex act (slurping Cava out of an appropriate orifice? Coming simultaneously whilst wearing taffeta?) but is, for once in this column, quite literally what it sounds like, our Prince is marrying his Uni sweetheart. Shucks. Now I imagine this event has more relevance to students here at Oxford than to most. There must be, say, a strong ten percent of us who are related to one of the happy couple, or at least our families are mutually involved in some sort of time share arrangement in the Bahamas. Hell, I sat next to a girl in hall last night who lives down the road from the Babykins clan (they’re a lovely, normal family in case you’re wondering). But my issue is, they don’t seem like a very sexual couple, do they? I mean, I wasn’t expecting Will to start rutting away at Kate’s soon to be royal vajayjay as soon as the camera faded out on the announcement, or for Kate to be coquettishly wiping a suspect substance from her lips in between declaring her excitement at impending queendom (though that would, in the words of Camilla Parker-Bowles, have been ‘wicked’) but I don’t get any, you know, vibes from them at all. To the extent that the thought of Kate calling Will ‘Big Willy’ gives me a little bit of vom in the back of my throat (how appropriate it seems to evoke the gag reflex that Kate has presumably forever suppressed in her ambitious quest for a royal title). Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe in St. Andrews they were constantly braving the notoriously freezing highland temperatures with alfresco sex jaunts, getting frisky under kilts or doing unorthodox things with shortbread. But it seems unlikely somehow. It is generally hard to ascertain the nature of another couple’s sex life though, isn’t it? Unless they live in the room next to you in college AND HAVEN’T REALIZED THAT THE WALLS ARE PAPER THIN AND I CAN HEAR YOUR WHINY INTERCOURSE WHEN SHE ALLOWS IT ONCE EVERY FEW WEEKS SO PLEASE SHUT UP. Shame this column is ‘anonymous’. Cough. When I allow my mind to wander to regal coitus, I imagine that Big Willy and Babykins will have sex three times in their life (with their clothes on) purely and entirely for procreational purposes, and then apologize to one another afterwards. And good for them. Things would get really creepy if the royals started getting sexy. I mean, there’s a reason it’s dark in Kukui and that’s because watching such highly bred specimens getting nasty is like looking straight into the sun. You’re witnessing something horrifying but oddly compelling. Hurrah for Kate and Will, then. And a merry Christmas to all.