Wedding links Prince William to the common man

He's a prince of the realm and a national treasure. I'm a commoner from Wolverhampton who spends his day annoying councillors. But Prince William and I would have plenty to talk about if we ever met, writes Dan Wainwright.

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He's a prince of the realm and a national treasure. I'm a commoner from Wolverhampton who spends his day annoying councillors. But Prince William and I would have plenty to talk about if we ever met,

writes Dan Wainwright

.

For a start we were in the same year at school and we're both marrying a girl called Kate, possibly on the same weekend.

The bookies said today they reckon one of the dates favoured for the Royal Wedding is August 13 — exactly one day before mine.

I reckon he's done it on purpose. Wills probably reckons he can scupper me for the picture deal with OK or Hello.

I wasn't able to get any strings pulled at our wedding venue, a 16th century manor house in Shropshire, to have it on a Saturday so we are going for a Sunday instead.

I can only imagine how the second in line to the throne must be feeling right now. The epileptic-seizure-inducing flashbulbs of the cameras aside, the announcement of the engagement is a huge relief to a groom who has spent years preparing for this event.

I too had to carry a ring, the most expensive single item I've ever bought without a loan or mortgage, around in a bag as secretively as possible. But while he may well have had help from a few armed guards and travelled to Africa as an honoured guest, I couldn't risk taking my engagement gift abroad. It still brings me out in a sweat imagining a customs officer fishing the diamond out of its box secreted in my trainers and holding it up to the light with a latex-gloved hand in full view of my intended.

I also applaud Wills for refusing to say if he got down on one knee. The proposal is a deeply private affair. My intention was to pop the question in a room full of strangers at a posh restaurant but as we got closer to the fateful hour I started to go crimson with nerves. Instead I pulled out the ring in our hotel room and it allowed us the luxury of a cry so my Kate could re-touch her make-up.

Now comes the rollercoaster of preparations, the countless hours trawling the venues, the arguments over whether to have white or ivory table linen, the cost of the flowers and the choice of a DJ or a live band.

The playlist will have to be vetted — no Sex Pistols, please, we're the British monarchy. Common People by Pulp is probably out as well given the rather cruel jibes about Miss Middleton's middle class background.

William has to pick his best man carefully but brother Harry, with his legendary behaviour on nights out, is the ideal choice for the planner of the stag do to end all stag dos.

I do have one criticism of William. Not asking the father's permission first is a serious failing in the "being-a-man" department and shows a slight lack of respect.

But when your gran has the age-old power to dissolve Parliament and declare war he's not exactly going to say no is he?