My lost year was my jubilee year.

Tomorrow evening, our beloved monarch celebrates her Diamond Jubilee.

Begging Your Majesty's pardon. A present has arrived in honor of your jubilee.

That 50th year is called the jubilee year, and it's the origin of that term.

It was the eve of our good queen's Diamond Jubilee, and the year Her Majesty's government came to the very brink of disaster.

Wodger, of the Purple Fawn, and Mr. Jaggers, the cobbler, who also sold old second hand ordinary bicycles, were stretching a string of union jacks and royal ensigns (which had originally celebrated the first Victorian Jubilee) across the road.

So anyway, she comes here, 1967, she's pregnant, and she comes from Ethiopia that was celebrating its own jubilee at the time under the Emperor Haile Selassie, and she lands months before the Enoch Powell speech, the Rivers of Blood speech.

But the point is that Parliament was outwitted in the whole course of events, because what really happened is that, because of the suspicious passage of that law, the law was actually passed into effect on the weekend we celebrated our 50th anniversary of independence, our jubilee of independence.