Royal ermine meets buses – Pageantry and politics mix at State Opening

The King sat on the throne wearing the Imperial State Crown and bedecked in the ermine-trimmed Robe of State as he outlined plans to improve bus services and restrict vape sales before the assembled great and good.

Such is the surreal juxtaposition of pageantry and politics for the State Opening of Parliament.

True to form, poker faces all round – from the monarch downwards – made short work of the unwanted intrusion.

There were the usual walk-on parts in this remarkable constitutional pantomime, from the fantastically titled Arundel Herald Extraordinary and Rouge Dragon Pursuivant to the Clarenceux King of Arms and Gold Stick in Waiting – not to mention the Sword of State and the Cap of Maintenance.

Central to the elaborate ceremony was the King’s Speech, setting out the new Labour Government’s legislative programme.

MPs were summoned to the upper chamber to hear the plans, but not before the door of the House of Commons was symbolically slammed in the face of Black Rod.

There was then the “will-she won’t-she moment”, with the Lord Chancellor, Shabana Mahmood, presenting the speech to be read out by the King.

She notably did not risk retreating backwards down the steps from the throne as has until recent years been tradition – understandable perhaps given the additional hazard of wearing heels.

One of the measures proposed by the Government is to kick the remaining hereditary peers out of the House of Lords, although those aristocrats affected by the plan gave little away as they listened to the speech.

The theatre of the State Opening had unfolded long before the King entered the gold-gilded stage, with the royal bodyguards, known as the Yeomen of the Guard, carrying out a ceremonial search of the cellars of the Palace of Westminster for explosives – a nod to the Gunpowder Plot of 1605.

In line with tradition, an MP had also been held “hostage” in Buckingham Palace, to ensure the King’s safe return from Parliament.

Meanwhile, peers and their spouses took their seats on the red benches.

The assembled throng also confirmed it was never too early in the day to wear a tiara or elbow-length opera gloves.

While unofficial photographs in the chamber are usually prohibited, the sense of occasion saw a number of red-robed peers taking pictures to capture the historic day.

Even members rarely spotted in the Lords showed their faces, to exercise the privilege of having a prime spot in the shimmering show.

As numbers grew, with ambassadors arriving to take their places and witness this most British of spectacles, it came to resemble a giant establishment networking event.

The fanfares, glitz and plumage was a far cry from the traffic chaos in London’s streets outside as irate, horn-honking motorists negotiated the gridlock caused by enforced road closures around Parliament.

No sooner was the ceremony over than staff moved in to rearrange the benches in the chamber ahead of the first sitting of the new Parliament, with Labour now at the helm.

After the shimmering buckles and gleaming medals, it was back to earth with a bump and the hard work that lies ahead.