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Tuesday, 10 February 2015

Blog 122. Britain’s First Mixed-Race Monarch - Queen Amanda I

Following the recent hoo-hah over an unofficial biography of HRH Charley by some mad stalking bint called Mayers – the heir apparent has apparently let it be known that he ‘knows how to be king’.

Well – I’m pretty sure I’d know how to be queen – should the situation ever arise. I was, after all, on the front page of my local paper when I was 8 because I sent a letter to (and received a reply from) QEII.

Not only could I let all my family be supported by the state and live in a big house for free with people to bow to me and wipe my bum - my birthday is even on the same day as the queen’s. So - er – zeitgeist I think. Destiny. Fate. Providence.

I would do more than just be queen bee. Once in situ I would restore a proper monarchy; do away with this ridiculous celebrity-magazine nonsense. It's cruel to continue with a situation where they get all our dosh but are just cardboard cut-outs in daft clothes behaving like they were pickled in the 1950s.

And I would rule better than anyone.

Recently I heard Nickers Clegg pitching his election promises. After I stopped laughing I made a list of my new better-than-everyone-else queenly way of ruling Britain - 

I would – like Nickers – promise to cut less than the tories and spend less than labour.
I would be less faux-fascist than Farage.
I’d be more Mother earth than the greens.
I’d be more leprechaun than Fine Gael.
I’d be more haggis than the SNP.
I’d enforce Magna Carta so that we no longer have a situation where people on benefits are hounded to death for small debts they can’t pay while rich people get a polite request from HMRC for taxes they deliberately side-stepped.
I’d be more chocolate than Charlie.
More tennis than Serena and Venus.
More enigmatic than the enigma code.
Thinner than a model’s personality.
Fatter than a tax-avoiders off-shore bank account.
Softer than ‘hands that do dishes’.
Harder than an action hero’s chin stubble.
In the same way Tories argue that Scottish politicians shouldn't be allowed to vote on ‘English’ issues - I’d rule that you couldn't vote on anything to do with the NHS if you have private health insurance. Ditto education.
Tax avoiders would be rounded up and sent off to live (with all the other selfish spiteful people) on an atoll made entirely of money, adrift in shark-infested waters.
I’d be truer than Atticus Finch.
Faster than Usaine Bolt.
Calmer than Angela Merkel.
Braver than Frodo (and I would do even better death scenes than Sean Bean).
Sadly because my family is very mixed I can’t promise the in-breeding thing BUT...
I’d make sure everyone got at least one hug a day and everything including the internet and Stephen Fry’s gob would be closed on a Sunday.
I’d be the bestist queen ever ever ever.

God save me