Last year, in our street, we had a real stroke of luck: turns out that John Brown from number forty seven, well, he’s only related (loads of generations back) to a king, ain’t he! Me and the neighbours, we were dead chuffed, weren’t we. Day after we heard the news we held a special street meeting, with John and his entire family invited as honoured guests, and we all decided that John and family need to be treated with the respect they were due so we made him King of the Street.
Now when we see King John, his wife, or any of the kids in the street, or down Tesco or whatever, we bow and we go, like, “yes, your majesty, no your majesty.” We also all got together and bought John a gold crown that he can wear on special occasions, with matching, smaller crowns for his wife and kids.
And, obviously, ‘cos John is King, his wife is a Queen and his kids are Princes and Princesses. Goes without saying, of course, that we can’t expect King John to live like normal people, being royal is expensive after all, so every month me and the neighbours give him a quarter of everything we earn: he don’t giving nothing back, ‘cept being King and waving a bit, but that’s ‘cos he’s Royal and not like us, innit? We’ve also clubbed together to pay for all King John’s kids to go to public school, cos they should have all the advantages possible in life, them being royal and all, and if our own kids have to suffer because of that, then so be it, that’s what you call being a loyal subject, innit?
Best thing of all about this royal lark is that it can go on forever, ‘cos all us neighbours have agreed that King John’s eldest son (Prince Algernon) will become King after (God forbid) King John dies, and then King Algernon’s eldest son can take over when he dies and so on and son…
That’s just a silly little story, isn’t it?
Sadly no. It’s actually a perfect encapsulation of the system of Monarchy we have in the UK: the elevation of a bunch of appallingly non-descript people to positions of extreme wealth and power based on nothing other than an accident of birth. These same people then proceed to breed uncontrollably with each succesive generation being supported in their opulent lifestyle by the tax payer, they even get to live in extra-ordinarily grand council houses for no cost! And people moan about “benefit scroungers”…oh, give me strength.
Can somebody please tell me what on earth the Royal Family is for, I mean, what do they actually do, what the buggery is the point of them?
For goodness sake, look at them! The Queen is a women of such sparse intellect that’s she managed to live over 80 years in the public eye without doing, or even saying, any one single thing of note or importance (except perhaps when she said that she’d had an “annus horribilis,” and that was only because it sounds like “horrible anus..”). And then there’s her husband, a dotty, mumbling old racist and misogynist. And the children. Oy vey, don’t get me on to the kids…let’s just say one is overly fond of very dodgy (one of them now now dead in suspicious circumstances) business men and corrupt, cash-rich countries, one is so potty that an ex-wife threw herself down the stairs to get away from him, another one is so crushingly rude and tactless that she’s not allowed out in public and the last one so inept that despite being given every advantage that money can buy, he’s fucked up everything he’s tried. Unfortunately the above mentioned litany of grotesques have spawned their own generation of pointless Royal Parasites who are currently, in turn, spawning yet another generation of pointless Royal Parasites. God help us!
As a whole, the Royal Family is so arrogant/ spoiled/emotionally incompetent/incontinent that upon hearing news of Princess Diana’s death they had to be forcibly restrained from bursting into a chorus of “ding dong, the witch is dead” and Prince Harry believes that the press have absolutely no right to comment on the fact that Ms. Markle spends £600,000 on jewellery, clothes and handbags (‘you can never have too many hats and bags..’) while their ‘subjects’ are subsisting on donations from food banks.
Please, please, let’s get rid of these gruesome people. Surely the 21st century and the granting of wealth and privilege based upon which lady’s lady-bits a child was squeezed out of are not compatible? I’m not suggesting we chop the Royals’ heads off, just make them give back all the tax-payer money they’ve been given since goodness knows when and return all the assets and land stolen by their sociopathic ancestors. The whole family could then revert to its natural socio-economic and intellectual level, move to a council house in Birmingham and claim benefits. Not much change there, then.
Maybe if we remove the pinnacle of class and privilege that the Royals represent then it might even deliver a terminal blow to that whole corrupt and nasty axis of class/privilege that rides on the back of British society like a vile, diseased, blood-sucking monkey, a system that has resulted in us being ruled by disastrously incompetent, offensive, right wing, Eton-educated idiots (like Boris) for far, far too long.
Oh, by the way. The Royal Family’s real name isn’t actually Windsor. It’s Saxe-Coburg-Gotha – that’s right, the repulsive, parasitical, benefit-scrounging , shower of cockwombles aren’t even fucking British!
Liked this? Read more rude, disrespectful humour in my satirical thriller based in the world of celebrity – Dying To Be Famous. (Because celebrities have secrets to kill for!);