Did you know the world was waiting for the royal baby to arrive? That’s what the red top newspapers are saying anyway. Me? I can wait.
I am not an anti-royalist anymore than I am a pro-royalist. I’m actually indifferent to the whole royal thing, actually, but it seems that many people are ‘pro’ and who am I to spoil their fun?
It all gets a bit silly sometimes, mind you, when the politicians join in. I remember David Cameron at the despatch box in the House of Commons offering his congratulations when it was announced that Kate Windsor was expecting her and Bill’s second child. In effect, he was offering his congratulations to the royal couple for having a successful and indeed productive shag, but of course he didn’t quite put it like that!
It’s stretching things a little to suggest that people are even mildly interested in the imminent royal sprog-dropping, but perhaps it’s the social circle in which I live, cosseted from the real world where people knit little items of clothing for the little one and travel all the way to London to hope Kate waves at them. I do the same thing at rock concerts and I cannot tell you how excited I was when Graham Nash waved at us when Crosby, Stills and Nash were playing the Bristol Colston Hall a few years ago.
I am not even sure why we have a royal family because they don’t actually have any power. The Queen comes along to the House of Commons from time to time to read some dour party political speech a spin doctor has written for the government of the day, but she has no say in its composition. And the other royals get driven around from place to place to open hospitals and to launch ships. It’s not really work as we know it, which is probably why most royals live well into their 90s.
When the little Prince is born (I am guessing it’s going to be a boy, although I don’t have any insider information), doubtless everyone will say what a gorgeous little chap he is, how he has his father’s hair (a bad sign, given the way Bill’s thatch is turning into an ever wider comb over) and, well, isn’t he gorgeous? “Look, he smiled at me”, a fan might say. “Bless. Now what time is that bloody Megabus back to Bristol? I could murder a Big Mac.”
People the world over love our royal family for much the same reason we do, which is to say they have no real idea at all.
And there is no real alternative. I suppose we could have an elected head of state, like a president, but in these days where the main party candidates are often defeated by independents, we might end up with Jeremy Clarkson or Katie Hopkins doing the job.
We have to stick with what we have, if only for fear of how much worse the alternative might be.
Now leave me alone and let me get on with these little booties I am knitting for him…
