THERE were no evening dresses, no long gloves, no shimmering tiaras. Instead we had strange-looking fascinators and large, voluminous hats. The Queen’s Speech had transmogrified into Ascot by the Thames.

Because HMQ was not wearing her regal robes and the shiny, bejewelled plant pot on her head, it was time for everyone else to dress down; to a degree, of course.

Out also went Gold-stick-in-waiting, the Master of the Horse, the Clarenceux King of Arms and the merry band of heralds and pursuivants in their colourful medieval garb; this was the Lidl version of the state opening.

I half expected Brenda to turn up in her night robes with a copy of the Racing Post under her arm; this is, after all, Ascot week.

The imperial crown still made it to the ceremony though. It was transported to Westminster in its very own cab and had pride of place next to the head of state on a nice, little side-table.

As the ermined Establishment gathered in God’s Waiting Room, a hub-hub of chatter ensued before the royal party arrived. Philip, admitted to hospital the night before because of an infection, was replaced at the last minute, no doubt happily, by Charles.

Up in the public gallery was the bin man himself, Philip May; perhaps contemplating how this was the one and only time he would attend a Queen’s Speech written by the missus.

After an hourlong wait, silence descended on the fur-lined congregation. Elvis was in the building. Slowly the royal party was ushered into the chamber. HMQ was helped up the stairs to the most gilded of gilded royal thrones by the next in line.

And then the long wait began. The Queen and heir were boredom personnified. No doubt, Brenda was thinking of how she might win the 420 at Ascot while Charles was mulling over his summer holiday with Camilla in Tuscany.

Then out of the heavy silence could be heard a slight murmur as the riff-raff from down the road began the short stroll to the upper chamber.

Once in the Lords, the huddled masses of MPs listened intently as HMQ read out the Gracious Speech; Brexit, Brexit and more Brexit with a few other things to pad it out. It was noted that the chief comrade bowed to his republicanism by failing to bow before the head of state.

As the Queen read out the speech in a now much smaller voice, one got the distinct impression that her heart really was not in it. There were much better things to do and much nicer places to be.

Once over, she picked up her handbag, was helped by Charles to descend the steps, bowed to the ermined masses and was off. Lunch at Ascot beckoned and then the 420, the Prince of Wales’s Stakes. What else?