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It's her party and Lilibet will cry if she wants to

Written January 2024

In the latest in a long line of events that exhibit the extraordinarily out-of-touch and entitled nature of the British royal family, a ridiculous brouhaha has emerged regarding the moniker of Hazza & Meg’s youngest offspring. Apparently, the late Queen threw a bit of a hissy-fit when she learned that the pair had announced to the media that she had given them her blessing to name the child Lilibet, the nickname bestowed upon Queenie when she was herself just a toddling little princess, probably being carried around in a sedan chair. Now, I’m no fan of the brats that are Harry & Meghan, but Her Maj flying into a rage at this completely unimportant piece of news seems, to me, to speak volumes about her. According to ‘a royal aide’, they had never seen the Queen quite so angry in her entire life. So, one can only assume that news of her favourite son’s paedophilic activities ranked rather low on her scale of ‘things that make Lilibet (the first) angry’.


The aide who has revealed this scintillating story reported that old Liz was so furious that she choked on her caviar and said 'I don't own the palaces, I don't own the paintings, the only thing I own is my name. And now they've taken that.' Ah, poor thing. Perhaps her personal fortune worth around £400 million, ‘made up of her vast jewelry and art collection, property, and other personal investments’ had slipped her mind that day. Easily done. The caviar bit is my own imagining of the scene, by the way, but unbelievably, the words are not.   


I have always cringed when hearing the sycophantic language so many people use when talking about the late Queen, as if they knew her personally and loved her dearly. People who can barely make ends meet in their own lives spout drivel like ‘she worked tirelessly’, and that she ‘kept the country together’, seemingly unaware of the life of privilege and immense affluence she and the rest of the royals live, the kind of wealth us mere mortals can only dream of. As I pointed out in an article on my thoughts regarding the lavish, enormous waste of money that was Charles’ coronation, the royals have no experience of what real work entails, and nor, I’m sure, would they want to. The truth is they consider themselves above the plebs in all ways, and see it as their god given right to have more than anyone else and be treated as superior and with deference by their ‘subjects’.  


Some of the guiltiest royal arse-lickers are the obsequious media types, who practically prostrate themselves on a gravel ground every time they speak about the Queen, lest they be struck down for some kind of high treason. Kevin O’Sullivan, Talk Radio / Talk TV presenter, was apoplectic with rage at His Royal Gingerness as he reported on this storm in a teacup this morning, accompanied by serial sicko, Jeremy Kyle, although I doubt this will keep the Sussexes awake at night. Kev’s cutting-edge reporting was a masterstroke of avoiding real stories and focussing on this hard-hitting piece about Lizzie’s fury. Anyone would think the Queen was his own grandmother. Or perhaps he is hoping to win a radio gong for ‘Most Irate Presenter’. Who knows.


Worshipping royalty is such a ridiculous act of self-depreciation. It is akin to admitting that, by accident of birth, these over-privileged (k)nobs really do deserve to live in the lap of luxury, while the rest of us are scratching around simply to make a living, and maybe enjoy a week or two in the Costa del Sol, if we’re lucky. As Thomas Paine so beautifully put it in his 1776 essay, Common Sense, ‘how a race of men came into the world so exalted above the rest, and distinguished like some new species [emphasis added], is worth enquiring into, and whether they are the means of happiness or of misery to mankind.’ I think Thomas Paine was in possession of some higher knowledge than many of his peers. If you know, you know. Charles is certainly on a mission to be a ‘means of misery’ for us. Hobnobbing with his great friends, the likes of Klaus Schwab and Bill Gates, he joins in the collective call for pursuits like air travel to be permitted only for elites like themselves, while the rest of us live like rats in ‘15-minute cities’. We must eat bugs, apparently, so that the climate doesn’t change, while they feast on fine lamb, steak and pheasant. As Schwab so enticingly commands us useless eaters, ‘you will own nothing, and you will be happy’.  No thanks Klaus, Bill, and Charlie. I think you will find the peace and freedom loving among us will grow fangs to defend ourselves from the hell you seem obsessed with pushing us into. Risk our wrath at your peril.   


Personally, I am inherently inclined towards a distrust of those who make a habit of hanging around with paedophiles, so perhaps that is one of the reasons for my profound misgivings towards the Windsors & Co. They even hand knighthoods out to them. If the naming of a child was perceived by Queenie, Head of the Mob, as a bigger deal than the disgusting acts of a group of child molesters and rapists, then I see no reason why she should have commanded such respect and adoration, and every reason she should be regarded with as much contempt as is deserved by the rest of them.


Get off your knees, royalists. You are making utter fools of yourselves.     


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