The Prince

High time we caught up with the incredible adventures of Fridge, who's been characteristically busy since the effort to emulate Charlie Sheen last month ended in a whirlwind of bitterness, recrimination and multiple court appearances.

And who'd have thought romance was on the cards? It all happened suddenly, but somehow the kitchen's wildest inhabitant looks set to settle down to a life of peeling spuds and bickering over wallpaper patterns.

It all began when Fridge took a trip to St Toffington's Academy For Overprivileged Halfwits, on a desperate fundraiser for yet another costly legal case. The absolute cream of the jellybrained aristocracy were all present under one roof, wallets a-bulging, just waiting to be relieved of their cash in support of lunar travel, or underground castles, or foxhunting, or whatever other silly pursuits appeal to them.

And that was when Fridge chanced upon a fine Edwardian wardrobe in the corner, all alone. It only took one dance for them to fall madly in love (although if you've ever seen a fridge and a wardrobe trying to dance with each other, you'll understand why this was a more lengthy process than mere words can convey).

Anyway, while I'm sure that even Fridge wouldn't stoop so low as to engineer a romance with a rich partner purely to pay off personal debts, the revelation that Edwardia herself was of royal descent raised a few eyebrows within the kitchen. Nevertheless, with all the energy of a latter-day D'Urberville, Fridge (or "Prince Fridge", as he suddenly demanded to be called) immediately set about the task of cementing his newfound lofty position. Along with a dedicated team of servants (the cooker, the microwave and the washing machine), he began to organise his very own royal wedding.

There was only one obstacle; finding the money to make it happen. Weddings don't come cheap at the best of times, and it goes without saying that Edwardia wouldn't be simply satisfied with a registry office affair followed by a buffet and retro disco down at The Golden Lion.

Then came the news that another, considerably less important wedding is happening later on this week. Turns out that money's no object with this do, as taxpayers are generously stumping up around twenty million pounds of their own income for it to go ahead (which, if nothing else, is bound to secure a plentiful supply of crisps and sausage rolls for that happy couple's buffet).

The problem is, the prospective Prince Fridge now believes that he's also entitled to a public-funded wedding. I've tried to explain why that's just not reasonable (it's needless expenditure, you can't force people to fund your own private parties, and when push comes to shove, you're just a fridge) but he's not having it. He wants to know why it's perfectly reasonable for a random couple of humans to tie the knot at the expense of the general public, but not a fridge and a wardrobe.

Well, Fridge, it's because those people getting married will encourage lots of tourists to come to our country. Because obviously, no-one in their right mind would want to come and visit the city of London, or Edinburgh, or the Lake District, or the Cotswolds, or Stratford-upon-Avon, or Snowdonia, or the Hebrides, or Hadrian's Wall, unless those things are vaguely presided over by a bunch of plum-mouthed scroungers. Oh, and they deserve it because their family's been around here for a really long time; in fact, since about a millennium ago, when they nicked our country off us.

You see, Fridge? When you think about it, it all makes perfect sense.



(If you're new to Fridge's adventures, all previous Fridge's World blips can be found here)