Like Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, Beauty and the Beast, and the transformation of a cup cake into fecal matter, cities too, have both a beautiful and an ugly side.
This is never more apparent than at Westminster Abbey, where sooty squatters brandishing yellow fingernails and caricatures of the Queen are sitting just weeks before the commencement of the royal wedding.
While this band of homeless/anti-war protesters have occupied Parliament Square for the last ten years, they now face eviction after figuring as a filthy embarrassment to Prince William’s impending big day.
Ugliness amidst such ostentatious civility will simply not do.
One local protester who has resided with the squatters for the last decade, simply known as “the beard”, says he and many with him have remained through the term of three English prime ministers and two lord mayors.
Advertising an explosive tuft of facial hair fitting to his title, the beard says he won’t leave until UK troops are brought home and the British government admits their lies behind its involvement in the Afghanistan and 2003 Iraq wars.
However, if the Westminster Council have their way, the beard could become ‘the barred’ in a matter of weeks. Although it’s clear he won’t be leaving without a fight, as he says he will not be swept under the carpet like some unsavoury price tag when the royal tupperware party comes to town.
When outsiders were asked for their opinions on the matter, some responded the squatters should be allowed to continue in their endeavour, while others branded them as “good for nothing lotus eaters” that should sent to the military for civil duty.
Faced with the possibility of eviction after so many years, many squatters have offered to cover up their political posters for the day, and some have even gone to the effort of creating one with William and Catherine’s name united in a love heart.
Detective Sergeant William Dobdob, undercover squat party insider, says deep down beneath all the huff and puff and uncleanly fluff, the squatters are really a sentimental lot.
He says any pretension of British military displeasure has given reason to years of front seat camping, where they’re not only hoping to get a quality biscuit and something better than rocket fuel, but a brush against royal fabric, even a royal cuddle, during what is set to be the most lavishly civil and chivalrous budget buster of the century.
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