The non-chimes of Big Ben

Although I didn't agree with the lavish expense laid on by the government's generosity of the taxpayer, if I was going to contribute my 61 pence to the occasion of Margaret Thatcher's funeral, I might as well get some value out of it by watching the proceedings (I voluntarily donated £1 when visiting the Science Museum last Friday - far better VFM).  After the Diamond Jubilee 'fiasco', Huw Edwards had been dropped and David Dimbleby had been restored to pride of BBC place to give gravitas to the programme.  Unfortunately, though rust may be appropriate on the occasion of the Iron Lady, Dimbleby showed some decay himself, mistaking Liberal Democrat MP Danny Alexander for his near namesake Labour MP Douglas Alexander.  Despite the noble Scottish lineage of the name Alexander, Douglas in Opposition would be nowhere near this funeral, even if he wanted to be, Edward Miliband representing modern Labour (and the trade unions?). One finds it hard to confuse Danny Alexander given his shock of ginger hair, as indeed it is Prince Andrew's ex-wife as Dimbleby acknowledged of her bouffant, yet protocol slipped here, addressing her as the Duchess of York, Fergie.  That's Sarah Ferguson to you - we're not living it up at the Hampsteads here.  And he boobed again, missing out name-checking Norman Tebbit in favour of Norman Lamont who he erroneously called Margaret Thatcher's Chancellor of the Exchequer, before being rapidly corrected to Lamont being John Major's Chancellor (Major himself being Maggie's last Chancellor).  Deary me.
And if that wasn't bad enough, he initially glazed over the clearly audible boos from some in the ground, saying there had been no disturbance.  A few minutes later, Dimbleby said of the horses drawing the gun carriage (whose heads were bobbing around, including one champing at the bit and the side of his partnering horse's face), that missiles of some description had been lobbed as the coffin passed and this may have perturbed the horses.  As flowers were being thrown, Dimbleby, for the benefit of the TV viewers, said these were not missiles, adding that they too might disturb the equine contingent (flower-throwing scum).  He rounded off his performance by referring to the Bishop of London's sermon as a 'lesson' when it was David Cameron and Amanda Thatcher (Maggie's granddaughter) who had read the lessons.
19 year-old Amanda is strikingly beautiful, especially in her killer heels, though it was a little strange to hear an American accent come out of that mouth.  Knowing that Mark, her father, has many dealings with South Africa, I would have understood a Boer-inflected speech - maybe her mum is American (I can't be bothered to Wiki it).  Some in the congregation didn't open their mouths at all.  This would have been on religious (Henry Kissinger) or non-religious grounds, though Nick Clegg, who clearly falls in the latter category, lustily sang the hymns, though it could be said he has no principles anyway!  But if you're going to attend an overtly Christian celebration for a woman that you honour, the least you could do (unless you really feel it imperills your religious confession) is getting into the swing of things, instead of keeping a curmudgeonly silence.
Overall, it was an over-the-top send off (e.g. Big Ben falling silent) for a woman whose funeral plans were being overruled, even when she was still alive, started by Tony Blair (who was quick to the cathedral entrance at the end to ambush people as they left and make himself feel important), through Gordon Brown who insisted upon a gun carriage, to Cameron.  That the funeral opened with words used at Lord Nelson's funeral I'm sure drew a cluck from those at home from more than just me.  Thatcher wanted a small funeral in the chapel under the House of Commons - really they should have embalmed her in the space in the north wall left by Nicholas Lyndwoode (a former Bishop of St David's who was discovered during renovation and reburied), then she could have been permanently part of Parliament.