The Queen Cost Me 8 Pringles, But I Suppose She’s Worth It
Having spent my formative years licking the back of her head, The Queen and I developed a special bond early-on.
A little part of me died the day self-adhesive stamps were introduced. 
Nonetheless, I couldn’t let a silly thing like ergonomics mar the Diamond Jubilee celebrations. She is The Queen of funking everything after all:
As the product of Colin Firth and Helena Bonham Carter, Elizabeth II inherited great genes. 
Brian May lives in-house to play her theme tune when summoned.
Prince Harry may well have made it onto the cover of GQ magazine, but his Grandma beats that feat tenfold.
Her face is on money. Watermarked and everything.
Two birthdays a year certainly help The Queen look young for her age. Elizabeth is actually 145, but doesn’t look a day over 86. 
Oh and she really can say “Don’t you know who I am?” All British passports are issued in her name and as such, she doesn’t personally need one when travelling abroad. Just her face – and possibly a five pound note.
Pet-wise, she has a Dorgi named Vulcan*. Leonard Nemoy will be impressed.
*I am aware that Vulcan is also the Roman God of fire, but the Spock thing is so much cooler.
The Queen costs the average taxpayer approximately 69 pence a year. By my calculations – that’s roughly 8 Pringles.
Bargain.
She hosts a weekly tête-à-tête with the PM. Now while these get-togethers are strictly confidential, I have it on very good authority that topics of conversation often include the latest goings on in Coronation Street and how to solve a problem like Justin Bieber.
On a lighter note, Her Majesty does know how to throw a great party. Like her much anticipated Diamond Jubilee concert.
So good of JLS to show novices like Sir Elton John, Sir Paul McCartney, Sir Tom Jones and Dame Shirley Bassey how it’s done.
They’re all heart.
Should you ever be fortunate enough to bump into the Queen at your local supermarket, just remember – she rhymes with luncheon meat. It’s “ma’am” as in “ham”. Not “ma’am” as in “palm”.
Crisis averted. You’re welcome.
Even Mr. T has nothing on her. You call that bling? 
That’s not bling.
This is bling. 
Did I mention that Liz is also named after the coolest rock band of all time?
Long live The Queen.
And bring back lick-and-stick stamps!