I CANíT wait for my royal wedding invitation to arrive. It just so happens I bought a new suit a fortnight ago, and Mrs Dorfman says if I lose a few pounds Iíll be able to fit into it.
What better incentive can there be to go on a diet than the prospect of hobnobbing with my sovereign and assorted royals and hangers-on?
Some disgruntled readers will moan that I am hardly a ďfit and proper personĒ to be seen in such elevated company. But if they had been paying attention since this column began, they would concede that my loyalty to the Queen and my support of the monarchy have been unwavering and steadfast.
No one sings the national anthem more loudly and lustily at simchas than I do, though I will never be as good (and loyal) as the late Rev Dr Ian Paisley, who would reprise all six verses of God Save the Queen every time he spied a Catholic out shopping in Belfast city centre.
Except Iíve noticed that the national anthem is not sung as often at simchas as it used to be.
I suspect that many of my fellow Jews are closet republicans, though in fairness some of them came out of the closet years ago and now brazenly flaunt their treasonous, anti-monarchist sentiments in public, safe in the knowledge that they wonít be thrown in the Tower of London to await a grisly fate (thatís liberalism for you!).
And I canít wait for the second series of The Crown to start on Netflix this week.
Whatever you think of monarchy, it works, and thatís why I, ever the pragmatist, support it. Britain has always had a suspicion, bordering on fear, of ideology.
Nothing could more upset modern political sensitivities than the notion of a hereditary monarchy, which allows wise kings and queens and their stupid children and even stupider grandchildren ďlong to reign over usĒ down the generations. There have been some excellent monarchs over the centuries and I am sure history will rank the present Queen with the best of them.
But donít forget the duds too: George IV, Edward VIII, Charles I and perhaps worst of all, King John who was strong-armed into signing the Magna Carta and then promptly ripped it up afterwards.
And yet constitutional monarchy, which on paper looks bonkers, still works.
Since the well-deserved expulsion of the last Catholic monarch, James II, this country has been stable and resistant to revolutions, both internal and external.
The last battle fought on British soil was at Culloden in 1746, but even that wasnít a proper revolution ó the Jacobites were a bunch of rebellious, deranged Scots who made a lot of noise but actually represented no one but themselves.
Does that remind you of anyone, Mrs Sturgeon?
Stability and tolerance have made Britain a good place to be Jewish, and Jews in turn have contributed so much to life here in every sphere imaginable.
So I think Iíve earned my right to that invitation to Windsor Castle next May.
And unlike other Jewish guests, I wonít be one of the ďmachers and shakersĒ representing the Jewish establishment who have already received gongs and peerages and are up for more.
Instead, I will be representing myself, confident that I will never, ever be awarded an OBE, MBE or whatever.
These debased baubles are now dished out like Dolly Mixtures. In the old days, you earned a knighthood by planting the nationís flag on new territory on the other side of the world. Or you sank the Spanish Armada. Elizabeth I was pretty hard to please.
No one would begrudge the honours bestowed on Sir Walter Raleigh, Sir Francis Drake and, in more modern times, Viscount Montgomery.
Nowadays you get a knighthood for writing a few pop songs.
So I will be attending the marriage of Prince Harry to Meghan Markle in my role as a loyal Jewish subject, not some social climber on the make.
And I have a few words of advice for the lovely Meghan: donít give up the day job.
Opening widget factories in Grimsby and Merthyr Tydfil and chatting to staff and visitors (ďhave you come far?Ē) will bore you stiff after a few months.
Iíve consulted constitutional experts and they all assure me that there is nothing in the Magna Carta or the 1688 Bill of Rights that prevents royalty from moonlighting in Hollywood.
Movie moguls will be falling over themselves to sign up a real ďEnglishĒ princess for their new production.
So if you really are a modern woman, Meghan, donít be a burden on the state.
Mr Hammond, who holds your purse strings, is desperately short of cash, and the sort of money you could command in Hollywood as the Duchess of Sussex (or whichever title the Queen gives you) would be enough to re-fit the Royal Navy and slash the public debt.
Your country needs you!
They might even ask you to replace Claire Foy as the Queen in the next series of The Crown. After all, if a black actor can play Hamlet, Prince of Denmark, why not a mixed-race woman as our present monarch?
Donít worry about the accent. Dick Van Dyke can coach you on how to sound authentically English.
So if readers are watching the royal wedding on telly next May, look out for me. Iíll be the one in the ill-fitting suit.
Iíll give you all a wave.