I see nothing but trouble up ahead for Prince William in his ‘Made in England’ marital paradise. You see, his sister-in-law has a better rear end than his bride or a Ferrari—whichever might be considered more capable of driving one insane.
British high society is on the verge of sinking to the bottom—in this case, sinking into the bottoms of Pippa Middleton, sister of Kate Middleton. What hope have the English in recovering from the current ‘economic downturn’ if the billions, who viewed Pippa’s assets from around the world during the recent royal wedding, become obsessed with the perfection of her hindquarters? People are not protesting endlessly; they are salivating needlessly like bulldogs.
In any case, the expensive idea behind the gala was to make Earthlings completely forget the financial spanking the Wall Street shylocks have given everyone—something that everyone forgot for the entire duration of the royal puppet show. These are interesting times we live in. It is more comfortable for a royal to be declared ‘the fittest member of the monarchy’ or the owner of ‘the nicest ass at the royal wedding’ than to brood over invasive foreign policies which create ‘Big Brother’ police states all over the world.
Such was the activity in cyberspace, no sooner did Pippa Middleton appear at Kate’s wedding, Twitter’s website crashed. Now we have a Facebook page called ‘Pippa Middleton Ass Appreciation Society’, where over 226,000 fans have already sworn true allegiance to a part of the anatomy that is ritually abused by Pakistani police to extract ‘voluntary confessions’ from criminals.
During the Victorian era, gentlemen kissed ladies’ hands to show respect and brave men received knighthoods on bended knees, but we are now living in an age in which buttocks rule—Jennifer Lopez and the likes of her be praised. I cannot wait to witness the chivalry of modern knights which the present British royalty, with perfect butts, will now churn out for the world. And what will the titles GBE and stand for, if not Knight Grand Cross of the Order of the Buttocks Empire? It pays to be reared—pun intended—as a child in the traditional British way.
Here in Pakistan, if the ‘bloody civilians’ dared discussing in hushed tones the doings and un-doings of the military’s General Headquarters, their hindquarters would be in serious trouble. This is true democracy. Or which journalist in his right mind would dare to speak publicly against overfed and under-worked begums? And suppose that he did, how colourful would his language be, especially Urdu, in describing the fatty rears of an influential person’s sister-in-law?
Now imagine for a minute, what hell might break loose at a wedding if one used un-parliamentary language for the sister-in-law of a top dog—allow me to call him a politician. Even before the word got out into cyberspace, one would find one’s head and eyebrows shaved, and then taken for an ignominious ride atop a donkey through the old Lahore's streets, complete with jeering street urchins.
Unsubtle is the British press which first admired Pippa Middleton’s soft white silk dress and then drooped to singing praises of her ‘lively rear that squirmed mesmerizingly’ as she followed her lucky sister down Westminster Abbey’s aisle. I have reason to believe that Pippa’s rear, and not a hypnotic voice with a pendulum, was used in order to cast a mass spell on the teaming billions. All Pakistanis, still aspiring to secure British citizenship, need to openly admire Britain’s monarchy for allowing the press the freedom to admire such royal rear ends. Pakistanis are so in love immaculately polished boots of military dictators and Italian shoes of under-cover tyrants, that not in a million years will they be able to achieve the kind of zenith of free speech that the British have.
A British celebrity fitness expert has opined, “Not calorie-burning workouts but rather family genes play an important part in having a rounded backside as perfect as Pippa’s and a curvy long-legged figure like her mum Carole’s.”
I have not had the pleasure of watching Kate’s wedding, and I only heard Pippa’s name a month ago, hence, to go on a sight-seeing tour of William’s mother-in-law is an activity that will greatly upset my own in-laws if they ever found me seated in one of those roofless red tourist buses of London.
Regrettably, the British fitness expert who trains the royals to have perfect butts will now have a lot to answer to a UK-settled Kashmiris whose surnames are unfairly associated with the most backward part of the human frame: BUTT.
Kashmiris are famous for cooking and then consuming foods so fatty, they make the very word cholesterol blush. Not only that, they love talking about food while consuming it at the table, and which gives them the kind of bodies that we lean people have only grown up to envy but never possessed, no matter how much we ate. In the jovial company of Kashmiris, it is illogical to assume that a balanced diet and some exercise are good habits to have.
Minor diversions aside, the same royal trainer has opined, “Gluteus maximus is a big muscle that responds quickly to exercise, many of my clients want a body like Pippa’s. Her butt-toning secrets are: tennis and swimming all strokes except the breast-stroke.”
Here I am, with my countless talents, a social commentator who receives an odd few hundred clicks each month on this blog, competing not with Pippa Middelton’s entire athletic body but only with her buttocks which do better social work than I could even dream of doing. To top it all, her public display of the swinging rear end generates more Facebook LIKEs in a day than I ever could achieve in a lifetime.
Enough said, from today on, I will do strenuous cardio workouts, prefer extreme diets, take the stairs and never a lift, and climb two stairs at a time to bend the knees a bit more so that my glutes wake up. And one more magnificent exercise which I have just invented: jumping into my trousers both legs at once. Hopefully by butt will achieve British standards.
©Tahir Gul Hasan 2011