Come on William and Harry, let’s hug it out

I've been off the booze lately. I'm not Eat Pray Love-ing my life or anything like that. In fact I've not even seen that movie so I'm not sure if that reference checks out but it feels "right" doesn't it?

As a result I closed my show at the Melbourne International Comedy Festival on the weekend and instead of heading out on the town to celebrate with a glass or two of personality, I found myself tucked up in bed by 9pm watching the funeral of Prince Philip. As I've stated before I am pretty on the fence on all things Royal. Seeing the Queen sitting alone in the chapel did tug at even my normally impenetrable heart strings (I always say that to sound cool but I'm really a blubbering mess in real life). As the BBC commentators kept mentioning "the Duke had planned every last detail of this funeral. All the decisions were his".

Joel Creasey has some persona advice for the royal family.
Joel Creasey has some persona advice for the royal family.

Naturally my immediate thought was, "oh my god, my funeral is never going to be this grand" and then I furiously started typing notes in to my phone in case something were to suddenly happen to me. If you're thinking I was typing words like "smoke machine", "laser light show" and "Celine Dion" you'd be on the money. I jest.

I've mentioned before my OCD, the funeral plans have been locked away in my best friend's head since Grade 9 and only need an update every few years - mostly re the guest list and who is off it. You'd be surprised how many friends have been kicked off my funeral guest list, put back on, only to be kicked off again. If only they knew.

The BBC commentators also did their best to steer around the Harry and William feud. Once again, I'm not really sitting in any camp but I feel like Meghan was damned if she did attend and damned if she didn't. However, it does make me think about the hundreds, scratch that, thousands of arguments I've had with my sisters over the years and how we've mended most of our arguments. A lot of them were resolved by Mum insisting we come into the kitchen and "hug each other please!".

Sorry, I don't feel particularly cuddly when you're standing there yelling "hug!" with you hands on your hips, Mum. Sometimes we'd resolve arguments by simply going to bed and starting a new day. Very standard in many households … old school, even.

My personal favourite was always to spin it back on to Mum and Dad and join forces with my sister. Perhaps some advice for the Queen … just make the boys William and Harry hug it out in the kitchen!

Originally published as Come on William and Harry, let's hug it out