At least we'll get time off.
AT last. For those not that bothered about a sappy posho marrying a balding posho, a light at the end of the tunnel.
Yes, we're still going to be unable to escape hearing every tedious detail, but at least we get extra holidays.
Not working eight days out of 11 is a schedule I can get behind. In fact, it should be the norm - you know, out of respect for the happy couple.
The bad news is an agonising concert, probably featuring exciting acts favoured by the royals, like Bryans Adams and Ferry.
Oh, and you're picking up the security bill too.
I feel sorry for people getting married before them though.
Particularly female journalists on papers named after reflective surfaces, who might be tying the knot in, let's say, LESS THAN TWO WEEKS, who have had my their thunder well and truly stolen.
I suggest their big days are declared national holidays too.