In light of the seemingly ongoing forever tale of the royal couple and their munchkins being here – we are so lucky to have these very rich people comes to call and to let us pick up the tab. And that said, I thought I would repost a tale I wrote when Kate was great with child with her first, Prince Quesnel.
So, the story that has dominated the globe’s news services, not to mention Facebook in the past couple of weeks has not been the ‘fiscal cliff’, the horrors of Syria, the potential for a bigger conflict re Israel and Palestine, the prime minister selling Canada to the Chinese or any of the rest of that bum-fodder.
None of the above. What has dominated has been the ‘Royal Knocked-upedness’ situation.
And if you’re a bit like me you probably dropped everything when you heard the news and likely you will always remember the circumstances under which you heard it.
“I’d just finished ‘oovering the cat when I ‘eard that ‘er ‘ighness was up the stump. I ‘ad to go to the loo and then make meself a nice cuppa me ‘ands were shakin’ so.”
But, I kid Will and Kate and far be it from me to mock the fact the succession is now secure and we can all sleep a little more peacefully in our humble peasant cots knowing that Kate barfs with morning sickness just like commoners do. Mind you, most commoners just stay home and accept it rather than seeing it as something of a national crisis.
But, I’m a Canadian so I probably don’t have full appreciation of the significance of the matter.
Whatever the case, it’s not really all that significant an accomplishment in itself, in terms of plumbing at least. Tab A goes into Slot B, and Bob’s your uncle. Most teenagers today can tell you how that works. What is significant in the view of the Royals and their followers is that this bit of rumpy-pumpy means that the future of the Empire is secured.
And they seem like nice kids. Will gets out there and drives helicopters with the best of them, and Kate is praised for her good works and her great beauty. Well, to be honest, and being the generation that I am, am forced to say that you’re cute in a sort of a healthy games-mistress manner, but you don’t have a patch on Will’s late Mum. And let’s have no more chat about your sister’s bum, OK. Now, that was kind of tacky in all the play posterior pulchritude was accorded. And I never want to see, re the pregnancy, any journalist ever again using the phrase “heir and spare”. That’s this year’s “perfect storm” and should be discarded.
I must confess that as a Canadian I’m probably not according this ‘event’ its proper respect. Theoretically this country is still tied to these foreigners and I know I am not showing appropriate fealty and so I must refrain from asking myself, as I confess I have, ‘could I care less about Kate’s pregnancy?’ No, out of respect I shall not answer that one.
I mean, probably I could, I just can’t find any point of comparison.