Picture by James Chapelard
I’ll say one thing for Prince Charles: he has hopes beyond his station. He hopes to succeed to the throne (if his mummy lets him); he hopes to lead the charge against modern architecture, for alternative medicine, for the cause of the albatross, that the troublesome Diana will be forgotten and public affection transferred to the love of his life Camilla. The list goes on. But the one hitting the headlines is his hope that he can influence decision-makers.
What baffles me is why the decision makers/ministers receiving these letters from Charles didn’t either tell him to take a hike or reveal to the world what he was up to. You say he’s got a right to his opinion, Virginia? He has indeed. But not to use his influence to pressure government ministers and the Prime Minister himself.
That’s because Charles is the Crown Prince. Yes, I said ‘Crown’, Virginia. And as such, he is supposed to be above politics. Should keep his opinions to himself. Not attempt to intervene in public matters. But then he’s had bad example from his mother. Remember when Scotland looked like it might opt for independence? QE2 was in there like a rat up a drainpipe, saying how unhappy she’d be to see Scotland go (and according to no less than David Cameron, purring like a cat when it didn’t). So Charles has no qualms about putting royal pressure on politicians regarding everything from the cause of the albatross to Patagonian tooth fish to complementary medicine. And he doesn’t give a damn if his backstairs manoeuvring ends in disclosure.
“ You kindly suggest that it would be helpful if I put them [his views] in writing – despite the Freedom of Information Act!”
And then there’s his concern about the internet:
“The frightening part is that people can be so radicalised either through contact with somebody else or through the internet, and the extraordinary amount of crazy stuff which is on the internet”.
Not half as crazy as a system that appoints its head of state through a genetic version of Russian roulette.
I don’t doubt Charles’s sincerity, and you can see he’s attracted to and can’t help sounding off on any number of topics. (A bit like myself, give or take a man to squeeze one’s toothpaste…) But don’t make the mistake of thinking that the public fund his life-style. They don’t. He pays for himself through the activities of his very own Duchy of Cornwall. And he pays taxes on what it makes. Mind you, when you turn an annual profit of about £19 million, you can afford to pay tax. Not to mention the comforting thought that your ma is worth around £475 million.
Let me be honest. I hope Charles keeps on writing letters and that they get leaked to the public. They’re a laugh. And to think that this man of many words , this demi-god will come striding amongst us, left hand in jacket pocket, within days! To coin a term: Wow.
And here’s the Prince’s entourage doing their bit for accountability and freedom of the press with Channel 4 asking about those letters:
Wow is right, Esteemeed Blogmeister.
Indeed, bow-wow as we grown-up politically mature folk down here in the Free Southern Stateen are gearing up for an orgy of corgy-like tail-wagging, ankle licking and lampost-hosing.
.One is referring, of course, to the awfully perfect timed visit of Chuck and his Chuck-wagon in the run up to the Referendum de dum to come.
While it is ostensibly being billed as a remake of the final episode from the comical ‘Travels with my Aunt’ camouflages the real reason behind the Royal Look In On to the lower case loyalists. And which reason has been kept under wraps at the risk at the getting a wrap of a hames from St. James Palace.
.Royal-watchers amongst us will recall that Chuck’s Mum went all green on Her visit with her wow-provoking,buckle-busting Cupla Focal./Couple of words in the Leprechaun.
This time her son and comb-over heir to the crown will go one better (Tri Focal, anyone?) by going all, erm, Graham Greene, author of ‘Travels with my Aunt’. At this stage,for security reasons, the actual roles that Chuck and his Chuck Wagon will play in this made-for-TV-special will play will not be revealed till the eleventh hour, going forward.
Though Perkie’s inner Palace eavesdropper called Fagan, is confident it will not be as obvious as some of a naive disposition may suppose. For reasons which will some become clearish.
(A word to the wise wage-earner: don’t put your shirt on Camilla the Chameleon playing the role of the Aunt.Tossers up of the Q’s shilling are convinced that the role might well go to Liz the Lizard’s -alleged – eldest son ).
Graham Greene’s entertaining novel deals with the byzantine intricacies which sometimes attend the in-breeding among royal families.,Involving even the comical consequences which can result from same-family marriages. Some offspring have been even reported to’ve been born (gasp) with Morris Minor wing-mirrors where ears are normally positioned among the commonality.
Notice how the most recent offspring of the Saxe-Coburg-Gothic bloodline had her ‘ears’ craftily covered?
(Don’t talk to Perkie about consanguinity and its deleterious effects on the Warbeckian family tree. Dutch elm d. doesn’t even begin to describe it).
Both briefly and brieflessly the plot of ‘Travels with my Aunt’ goes thus: Henry Pulling, a conventional bank (sic) manager encounters his unconventional Aunt Augusta at his mother’s and her sister’s funeral (it’s a work of fiction).
He hasn’t met his nonagenarian aunt in over seventy years. Unexpectedly, they both hit it off and take off on their travels together in, erm, a Morris Minor. As the travels progress it becomes clear that the woman Henry had been raised to believe was his mother was in fact his aunt. His real mother is Augusta. Her re-connection with him at her sister’s funeral (don’t forget,this is a work of fiction) marks the beginning of her reclamation of her child.
Sound familiar?
Say no more, Seymour.(As we Warbecks like to address our butler in situ, regardless of name).
Understandable, is it not that the post-colonial corgi- orgy is gathering momentum (see above). So much so, we (notice already the use of the p for plural pronoun) we can scarcely contain our waters in anticipation:
‘He watered every gateway too
And never missed a post;
For piddling was his specialty
And piddling was his boast.
Naturally, the corgi-orgy (c-o) is being co-ordinated by The Unionist Times and its sister paper,The Lapdog Breeder’s Gazette.
‘Then all the dogs from everywhere
Were summoned with a yell
To sniff the country stranger oe’r
And judge him by the smell.
Not to be outdone, the Irish Dependent has got in on the act and brought a touch of the red-top to proceedings:
‘Some thought that he a king might be
Beneath his tail, a rose;
So every dog drew near to him
And sniffed him by the nose’.
Thump ! Thump ! Thump !
Schrodinger: typical feline in this cat and dog world or our’s demanding equal air time as her canine opponent.
And demanding, in this instance, to know just how, in so many words, the Impending Imperial Visit is being timed to coincide with the up coming Referendum de dum ?
Not yet, Schrodinger. That Classiebawn info is currently classified for, erm, security reasons. And will not be revealed till the eleventh hour oif the Countdown.
What one,however, can reveal is that the inspiration for the current catchy wireless advert for The Unionist Times has already been revealed:
– ‘ You are what you’ve peed’.
– ‘ You are what you’ve peed’ – oh Perkie! My withered old features have twisted into what most would, with some difficulty, recognise as a guffaw…
Bi curamach, a Mhaistir Ionuin Blog: guffaw responsibly.
Not least when facing either Arsenal or a urinal.
Otherwise, the chap next to you is liable to end up with a, erm, wet suit, in the lower extremities at least.
Nar laga Dia na Gloire do lamh dhearg.
Endangered species
It is time for fair play. It is time to call a spad, a spad. It would be an appalling vista if the Prince of Wales was not exercising the royal prerogative on behalf of loyal subjects. Institutions such as Armagh Gaol and Ebrington barracks were well maintained thanks to royal intervention and it would be a mean spirit that would question the need for such buildings in the first instance.
The man bears a heavy burden. He manages to lobby for the armed services which includes the development, procurement and operation of nuclear weapons, yet still finds time to question the decimation of wildlife on the Galapagos Islands and throughout the world. Only a boor would cast aspersions on the prince in relation to shooting wild boar in Spain during royal time out.
Hahahhaaaa! Well put,Iolar…
Jude,
Was “a man to squeeze one’s toothpaste” a euphemism?
Just wondering.
Well spotted, Belfastdan. Go to front of class…
The reason British ministers do not tell Charles to buzz off is their brains turn to mush as soon as they are acknowledged by any member of their royal family. Look at the expressions on the faces of people whenever a member of that family visit their work or cut the ribbon on a new hospital, the said hospital is nearly always named after one of the royals, due to their vast medical experience, not. My loathing for the royal family is actually stronger now than during the conflict, I can not stand the sight of them, I have no love or respect for them, they are the biggest spongers in Britain and the worst thing is they are loved by so many people on this island as well. There has to be something in the water, they look like nothing, they are all thick and they have never worked a day in their collective lives. Their marriages all fail, they have no redeeming features at all.
At the risk of being an Iolarian boor I must express disappointment Jude at you giving this Proper Charlie the benefit of your grey matter.
Any ‘man’ whose only stated ambition in life was to be Camilla’s second-hand tampax cannot really be taken seriously in any sphere of life.
Damn. I’d forgotten that one. Last word indeed.
“Iolarian boor, wow.” Just in passing, the royal we seeks the assistance of any etymologists from the parish. Is this a neologism in mint condition? One has a number of acquaintances who are peers for their services to micturation.
He still hasn’t enlightened the subjects on his opinion of his oul muckerJimmy savile and his other paedo friends his oul doll keeps giving medals to. Which comes first, the medal or the abuse? Never mind all the victims, a run down jail is more important to this clown. He’s certainly taking the proverbial by visiting the site of where filthy Louis could harm no more.