I didn’t know what to think when I saw the footage of King Brian being shouted at by an independent senator in the Australian parliament in Canberra yesterday. Lidia Thorpe, who is an aboriginal Australian, made claims of genocide “against our people” followed by “This is not your land, you are not my King.” I do not pretend to be an expert on, as the BBC put it, “The glaring disparities between First Nations people and the wider population, including poorer health, wealth and education outcomes” but certainly my overwhelming sympathies lie with Australia’s first inhabitants. As a mere Englishman, I suppose I should mind my own business, but given that Brian is also my head of state, as well as that of Australia, I suppose I have some skin in the game.
I used to be vaguely agnostic about the monarchy, concluding that having a mere figurehead as head of state, rather than someone with actual power, like a president, was better for our country. I am still on a journey – and I am so sorry to employ that dismal cliché in this context – heading slowly in the direction of republicanism. I am not quite there yet and indeed I am not entirely convinced that we need a head of state at all, whether it is one with real power or, as we currently have, one with none. If I am thinking this way about the UK, then God alone knows what many Aussies must be thinking.
Brian, and his wife Camilla Parker-Bowles, are doing the usual royal thing, essentially making bland speeches (I have read the transcript of Brian’s speech in Canberra and I cannot remember a single thing he said), waving and shaking hands with people, along with the odd bit of ribbon-cutting or wreath-laying events. I have always thought this to be perfectly bonkers, yet as I drift off at glacial pace to the wacky world of republicanism, I appear to be in a small minority.
Wearing eleven of his military medals, Brian went on a walkabout meeting his subjects, asking questions like, “How far have you come?” and accepting flowers, that kind of thing. And to be fair, the Aussies in attendance seemed thrilled to meet the old boy. So, what should they, what should we, do next?
It’s easier to answer the second question first. The cap-doffing Brits in the main still love the royal family. The half a billion quid anti-monarchy campaigners say the royal family costs us all every year is apparently a price worth paying. For that nominal sum of money, we get Brian’s Christmas Day message, as well as countless televised opportunities to see the royals “at work” waving and shaking hands with people. You may have detected a hint of sarcasm in my comments. You’d be right. But believe me when I say that the royals will still be here when we are all worm food. Australians, and other Commonwealth countries that retain Brian as their head of state, may have a very different point of view and Brian knows it.
If I lived in a country where the head of state was a head of state from another country, I’m not sure I’d be greatly amused. I appreciate that the role is mainly historic and ceremonial but a head of state is still a head of state. Indeed, a good few countries have already severed ties with the British monarchy. Sooner or later, all of them will.
Wherever the direction of travel will all take with the royal family is probably better left to another day for Brian is clearly unwell with cancer, as is Kate Middleton. I see the very concept of a royal family as being both anachronistic and ridiculous and at the very least I’d like to see The Firm dramatically slimmed down. If this country cannot afford to feed its own citizens, it seems crazy that we are still able to pay vast sums in order to sustain a phenomenally expensive royal family in extreme luxury.
I wish none of the royals ill, but I do wish they played a smaller role in our lives. Wandering around waving and shaking hands with people is maybe nice work if you can get it, if you can call it work at all. I can’t.
Why is King Charles referred to as Brian?
