Thursday, October 21, 2004

Send Them Down The Mines

A lot of people ask us about our thoughts on the British monarchy, and we usually suggest that the overpaid parasites be sent into immediate exile in South Ossetia, the constitutional niceties be damned. And those that try and bring up the tourist angles are told that if the European experience suggests the opposite. If you want to increase tourist traffic to your historical places, one way to do this is to execute the current occupants so no-one will object when you guide a group of wealthy Japanese grockles through their loo. But again, and we might have to start running this alongside the right hand frame or something, Gumby Fresh Does Not Condone Killing Wealthy Or Powerful Heads Of State.

Diana's death clouded the issue, somewhat, if only because Diana behaved in a very royal fashion against the interests of the monarchy. There is every indication that Diana was much better at looking interested in the less fortunate than doing something about it, which may well have irked the hell out of her in-laws, who have consistently tried to achieve much the same feat. John Lydon(scroll down) recognised this, and ultimately decided she was a good thing, if only for her ability to annoy and discredit the monarchy, much as we were sneakingly grateful to George Bush for being the only man idiotic enought to try and remove the vile sadaam Hussein.

But we always have to be careful about the kids. Or, assuming, as we do, the prince's inability to empathise with members of his own, as opposed to our kingdom, the orphans. William and Harry, the Bill and the Glitch. We're genuinely torn. They've lost their mother. But they essentially resemble the ghastlier end of the social spectrum that we went to school with. They fancy girls called Isabella Anstruther-Gough-Calthorp, ferchrissakes, and surround themselves with an army of large-lipped, floppy-haired no-marks.

And now Harry, the one who has been advised that the Army would be a sensible modern-day career choice for a resident of modern-day Briton, the one who isn't the product of an adulterous affair (not that the Other one is, but the smear is there, non?), the one whose girlfriend only has two surnames (Laura Gerard-Leigh, at least it was a while ago), the Ginger one, is now fighting outside nightclubs. Like 50 Cent, Christina Aguilera, and er, Brian Harvey. I do believe the little tinkers are finishing off their mother's work.


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