I can tell. It’s coming. A royal heir has gotten engaged to some young woman, and there will be one of those royal weddings, and the sentimental argle-bargle in the British media will soar to new heights of fatuousness. I’ll miss most of it, fortunately, but I pity everyone in the United Kingdom who’s going to have to suffer with the royal romanticism for a while.

At least this time the Telegraph has set the bar for stupidity abysmally low, and I have no idea how anyone else willl sink lower (the fun will be in the trying, I’m sure). Someone has found a jelly bean that looks like Kate Middleton.

I don’t know what this means. Even the candy-making machines in jelly bean factories are infatuated with tabloid press stories about the imminent wedding, and are pressing their obsessions into sugar and gelatin? Kate’s visage is so potent that speckles and spots are spontaneously rejiggering themselves to conform? Or, perhaps, credulous idiots are rife in both the public and tabloid editorial rooms?

I suggest that The Telegraph document this novel property of random dots and send a reporter/photographer to the nearest sewage treatment plant and gaze adoringly into the feculent froth until more detailed images of connubial Windsorness bubble to the surface.