Images of frenzied people chanting “USA!USA!” in the States following the death of The World’s Most Bearded Man bear an uncanny resemblance to the scenes of hysterical flag burning so often witnessed in the Middle East, and all too often held up as evidence of the region’s uncivilised populus.

A few days later, in an article in The Guardian, an American girl claimed the shots of jubilant crowds whooping and hollering at Ground Zero were “offensive to me as a Muslim”. Why do people find it so hard to just be offended? Why do we find it so difficult to be  simply offended as human beings?

I went to collect my youngest from school a while ago, and was collared by an anxious parent who informed me that her son and mine had been betting during the after-school club. I was already aware of this, as my son had told me enthusiastically that the other child, having recently discovered the joys of gambling, was prepared to take a bet on the outcome of pretty much any scenario my son- or indeed anyone at the club, kids and staff alike- could come up with. The anxious parent scrutinised me carefully whilst relating the news, then said-“It’s particularly bad for me because ……I’m a Quaker”. 

How awful I felt. Whilst I, as a non-Quaker, was simply grateful if my own child managed to return home each day without having injected crack into his eyeballs, she was going through the extra agony of experiencing the situation with much higher moral standards. In the spirit of her much vaunted values, I guess I should have told her the truth, but I simply didn’t have the heart to tell her that it was her own beloved Quaker-ish offspring that had instigated proceedings. I should, though, at the very least, have told her to put a tenner on him being in serious financial diificulties by the time he left secondary school.

On one level, of course, this is an absolute no-brainer: last bastions of hereditary privilege blowing yet more public money on themselves? No thanks. On the other hand- who could resist a sneaky peak at the service itself, if only to remind ourselves how ridiculous and anachronistic the whole system/family/occasion is? Do we sympathise with the Middleton parents for now being married into an elitist, self-serving clan with a world-class record in snubbing outsiders, or allow ourselves a little snigger at the fact they’ve made their fortune selling party-poppers online? Will Kate’s dad walk up the aisle dressed as a Clown in deference to his chosen profession? One thing that makes me think twice about allowing myself a harmless moment or two of voyeuristic schadenfreude is the worry that seeing “Call Me Dave” dressed in his morning suit might result in mindless and gratuitous violence and the inadvertent destruction of my TV. It does need replacing with a digital one, though; maybe this is the way to do it: indulge in a frenzied orgy of class-hatred and destroy my own property, before searching the internet, bloodied but unbowed, for a suitable upgrade.

Is it class/wealthy envy to be so riled by Dave? The cabinet has 22 members who are multi-millionaires, who must legislate, amongst other things, on the financial future of the poorest people in the country. Does this not feel akin to convening 22 rapists and asking them to determine the best policy for sex education? Despite what seem to be the obvious failings of Dave, I can’t say I hold out much hope for the alternative, particularly having witnessed Ed M address the crowd at the rally in Hyde Park. Wooden doesn’t begin to do his public-speaking style justice; if he ever wanders in to Madame Tussauds he’ll be lucky to ever be let out again.

My brother-in-law runs a craft brewery in Bristol-www.arbor-ales.com- and showed me a pump-clip he’d designed for the occasion: “I Couldn’t Give a Toss (But Thanks For The Day Off!) Ale”. However, on the advice of  landlords in the area, probably won’t be displaying it for the big day; despite the fact it will go down well with a large section of the drinking community, there is an equally large- and usually much more vociferous- section of the “leisure industry” who would be offended. Why do the people with what would seem to be the most reason for despising the social injustice and inequality of the Royal Family invariably turn out to be their biggerst supporters? Answers on a beer mat, please.

I probably will see a bit, in what I hope will be a determinedly post-ironic fashion, but what I fear will be in a spirit of unashamed curiosity.