#( the queue

Oh no

It's true

It is like something out of Douglas Adams. And yet it is actually happening.

Well… this is a very rare sight.

For the first time in years, perhaps even since I started this blog, I have officially cleared my ask queue. Zero pending questions. None hiding in the back. No forgotten tabs. Nothing waiting.

Some of these were handled as short private replies, admittedly, but there’s little point in rehashing answers I’ve already written out in full years ago when I can simply link to them and move on to the next question.

(Well… almost nothing. There is still one answer queued up to be published tomorrow. And two emails glaring at me from my inbox, but that’s a different matter.)

So if you ever wondered, “Did my ask get lost?” or “Maybe it slipped through?”, please do check your inbox. If you sent an ask, you got an answer. I don’t delete asks unless they’re outright insulting, which thankfully happens very rarely, and even then I usually still reply.

I know this will invite new asks, and that’s perfectly fine. That’s half the joy of running this blog. But for today, I’m allowing myself a small moment of satisfaction.

Ok so if you've not lived in Britain at all this might be confusing. Let me explain why even this is getting my little republican heart excited.

So the former parasite is now lying in state in Westminster Hall; this 1000 year old hall in the parliamentary complex next to Big Ben. This is fairly standard for senior royals, prime ministers, and other such high status/high fame people in the UK.

What isn't fairly standard is for a huge queue sweeping through central London of people wanting to see the coffin lying in state.

But us Brits, we love to queue. Or at least, indulge the love side of a love/hate relationship with it on a regular basis. It keeps things in order for us, it helps us make sense of the big things and the small things in life. We have clear cut rules. We understand when it's appropriate to hold a space and when it's appropriate to cut in (only if your life depended on it). We would happily queue forever to get into heaven.

But look at this mother...

Look at that beast. It's the mother of all queues. The queue to end all queues. It's our Everest. As a nation, we've been training for this day. It's already about 5 miles long and I don't think they have capacity beyond 6.9 miles.

You can't cut in. You can't rejoin The Queue. You can only briefly leave The Queue for the loo or the water fountain at the designated refreshment zones which are very few and far between. You can't hold a spot for someone. It will continue 24/7. There are few places to sit or sleep. It will crawl at an impossibly slow but infuriatingly steady pace due to security at the finish line. You will be queueing for an estimated 30 hours. 30 hours of little food/drink/loo breaks/sleep.

The Queue is already a celebrity in its own right. Its volunteers will be lauded as heroes. They've been told to look out for people struggling and in need of medical help. This is NOT for the young, the old, the disabled, the pregnant, or the faint of heart.

And the prize? A couple of minutes looking at a (possibly empty) box containing the corpse of a 96 year old woman.