Prince Charles is a nutter. He’s an affable nutter, entertaining us all by pointing out the funny sounds turkeys make, and making guest appearances on ‘Look Around You’ --but a nutter nonetheless. And I’m not saying that like it’s a bad thing. I really dislike the Queen –not the necessarily the monarchy as an institution, but the Queen personally. “Oh, look how well she’s done to have spent so long as a national figurehead”. Well, yes, fine, whatever. I’m sure the residents of Skull Island were very fond of King Kong, and the mischievous T-rexes that were his version of corgis. I mean, she’s basically a lowest common denominator, rent-a-public-speaker curmudgeon –being a fan of auld Norman Wisdom is not enough to constitute having a personality. The Three Stooges, maybe.
And you just know –you just _know_-- her Christmas speech this year is going to be super-wangky. Here’s my lottery predictions for the words and phrases she’ll use.
* Division * ‘Our Country’s Place in the world’ * Spirit of friendship * British ingenuity * Scars * ‘Our sporting successes’ *
I mean, playing using National Lottery rules, I reckon I’d get at least three and win £1000 --which, of course, because it’s Christmas, I’d give to some poor orphan lads (as I call the cashiers in CEX, and ‘give’ as in ‘buy PS4 games’).
When ‘The Crown’ gets to, say, Season 15, will the Queen start being played by a heavily-prostheticked Stephen Tobolowsky? When it starts skipping ahead a few decades, long after we’ve all died and the Queen is age 260, will it need the crazy production values of an Avengers film when she undertakes her final battle with Lord Xenu?
But tradition isn’t a bad thing is it? We can stand anything if it’s called ‘Tradition’, so giving psychic punctuation marks to the otherwise random, relentless cluster eff that’s life in the twenty-first century. And no matter how vague and prosaic the Queen’s speech is, you know it’ll still be a gazillion times more watchable than whatever Channel Four is putting up as an ‘alternative’ Christmas speech. I’ve not looked in the Radio Times yet. What is it, those Last Leg gonks hypnotically staring into everyone’s eyes so that smarminess becomes the dominant force of human evolution? What is it, some mindless Gogglebox slags watching The Snowman flying upside down over Britain in an anonymous mask and yellow jacket? What is it, Corbyn giving some scripted, low-hanging comebacks during PMQ’s, but with a Christmas ribbon taped to his forehead?
Come to think of it, there’s only one solution. Come Christmas Speech time: