Critic TV now takes you over to our continuing coverage of The Story, which as viewers will be aware is entering its 189th hour.

Huw Edwards (for it is he): And so, with the dignity and radiance that has characterised every moment of The Story’s time in the headlines, it continues its final journey along the newsstands. Turning here onto page five, a journey it has taken so many times over the decades, in times of both joy and sorrow. It was of course in 1956 that The Story nearly missed Page Five altogether, due to a printworkers’ strike.

But here today you can see it over an advertisement for Ann Summers, who are offering two-for-one on edible thongs this weekend in honour of The Story. And just a dignified reminder here that you can watch live footage of people reading The Story over on iPlayer, or by respectfully pressing the Red Button. Here on BBC Mourn, we’re joined now by our own James Naughtie, who has written a poem about his own encounter with The Story.

Naughtie: Solemn. Silent. Still. Sombre. Sombrero. Solero…

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Kay Burley: I think we can now go over to the queue, where lesser-known journalists are waiting for their moment to write a paragraph of The Story. Such a very British sight. I think we can talk to James Corker. James, is this a very British sight?

Corker: Yes Kay, very British.

Burley: Wonderful. And British. And have you ever written a part of The Story before?

Corker: No Kay, though I did once see it at a distance across the newsroom.

Burley: And with you is Will Shumble. Will, are you enjoying the queue?

Shumble: I am, Kay, it’s great fun. Though also very moving, obviously.

Burley: Now Will, I think you have a family connection with The Story?

Shumble: Well, yes, my grandfather actually wrote a previous version of The Story, back in 1952.

Burley: Wonderful. And how do you think he’d feel to know that you’re here today, waiting to write your own paragraph?

Shumble: He always told me, Kay, that it doesn’t matter whether your paragraph gets cut, so long as you can claim for your lunch. So I hope he’d be proud.

Burley: I’m sure he would. The queue there. How very, very British.

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Naughtie: …and despair.

Edwards: Thank you, Jim. And now, turning back to The Story’s journey, it has entered the features pages, passing through a ceremonial phalanx of light-hearted pieces headlined “My Very British Hours In The Very British Queue”, by the Colour Writers Guard. All of those articles will now be carefully stored until next year’s British Journalism Awards.

And I think we can see the Guild of Commentators, who have been sustaining a round-the-clock vigil over The Story, explaining its relevance to the things they already thought. If you look very closely — oh yes, the cameraman’s caught it beautifully — there’s a writer from the Guardian wondering whether the public is ready yet for a wholesale denunciation of The Story. It looks like she’s decided to give it another week. Such a delicate matter of judgement…

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Amol Rajan: We are now joined by the Archbishop of Canterbury, Justin Welby. Archbishop, what are your thoughts on this sad day?

Welby: You know Amol, as we mark the passing of The Story, I’m reminded of a far greater, far older story…

Rajan: Paddington?

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The Story always would be there

Edwards: As we watch, The Story is being constantly moved forward by some of the finest correspondents in the land, asking questions like “Should The Story Have A Better Name?” or “Would The Story Like A Yacht?” And now it has reached the Arch of Nations, where newspapers from around the world will offer their own takes. Very strong American representation here, as ever. There’s the Washington Post, arguing that The Story was responsible for oppressing stories from the colonies, and here’s the New York Times, which is very proud of a months-long investigation it’s done which I think reveals that Britain’s favourite dish is offal.

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Mishal Husain: We’re joined now by our own Nick Robinson. Nick, you’ve been down there in the crowds. How has The Story changed over the hours?

Nick Robinson: Well of course in one sense The Story hasn’t moved on in any way at all since it first broke. But in another, deeper sense, it has surely become part of all our lives. I suppose many of us feel like The Story has just always been there, and a lot of people I’ve spoken to today said they’d started to believe The Story always would be there, just carrying on across all channels and all newspapers, endlessly.

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Edwards: We can now go to Westminster Abbey for the beginning of the service, and we’ll just listen here to these very solemn, very moving, very British opening notes.

Organ voluntary: I Vow To Thee My Story.