The government's cuts might drive me into the streets

I'm not a violent person, but by the time the royal wedding rolls around, will I have crossed the line

Forgive me if one's looking for a "wry sideways glance" at bridal hemlines, but I'm not wholly in the mood for Will and Kate's big day. Obviously, I wish the pair bon chance; God knows Kate will need it (she's clearly never read an Andrew Morton book). But in my current state of ever-bubbling rancour about the "all in this together" cuts, the last thing I want today, tomorrow and stuffed down my cakehole until next summer is endless titbits about two very, very rich people.

Or indeed their extended retinue of plump-chested hangers-on.

The safari jaunts to Kenya, their shared love of blood sports, their top-end educations and their passed-down-through-centuries wealth. Not today, thank you. I need no more ammunition for my personal class war. Apparently, when Cameron's cabinet heard the royal news there was "a tremendous banging on the table", which I found ironic, as 10 days earlier, a bunch of warlike and wrathful militants (not me, I was having my hair done) had broken in, banged the tables, banged the chairs, then missiled lots of bangy, smashy things off the roof at riot troops. If any of these protesters are planning a "street event" for Kate and Will's big day next summer, I'd suggest eating before you go, as their main priority won't be the catering.

Obviously, I can't condone chucking fire extinguishers off buildings, although I do feel growingly, stinkingly cross these days. I was livid about tuition fees, I was boggle-eyed at cuts to the Education Maintenance Allowance and tearful over talk of mass removal of the working classes from London. Then, two days ago, hours before news of the big royal shindig emerged, I was gobsmacked by the legal aid cuts. These cuts prevent the poorest parts of Britain from free legal clout on divorce, housing, debt and immigration. Bang, gone. Quickly it was lost in acres of dross about engagement rings and Kate and Will's new Welsh home. What happens to the poor now when they need help to fight homelessness, wrongful imprisonment or repatriation? Nothing. They're on their own.

Obviously I can't condone picking up a rock and throwing it at Millbank over legal aid, but what boils my innards is that there will not be a single member of the cabinet or the royal family who doesn't have the number of a "family lawyer" in their address book. The very reason the cast of Harper's Bazaar's party section keep their claws on their gold supplies for centuries is they rarely let lesser plebians legally grab it off them. "Well there have been abuses of the law," the rich will mutter, "Yes, byyou, that's how you own Dorset," the poor will say, their hands grasping for a nearby  bottle.

Obviously I can't condone violence, you'll never find me in the path of galloping police horses holding a pipebomb – in fact the closest I get to a scuffle is the Topshop post-Christmas sale. But come summer 2011, with the royal wedding hoopla and council cuts in full glorious swing, will I have crossed the line?

Say police and officials come to remove a poor family from my street for non-payment of rent and disperse them somewhere less expensive? What will I do? Close the curtains? Sit indoors making paper-chains and sipping tea from my commemorative Will and Kate china? Turn the sound up on ITV2's Holly and Fearne's Royal Wedding Show to drown out the screaming kids being dragged into vans? Or will I go outside, join my neighbours and try to help? Will I make a collosal show of myself pleading and shouting and getting over-emotional about the people at the bottom of life's pecking order who have no benefits, no savings, no jobs and now no legal aid. Or will I think, well they were poor, it was probably their fault anyway? Obviously, I can't condone how a riot might break out in these circumstances, but I can see how it might occur.