For A' That

The Divine Right of Kings is an idea that should have died under the axe that divided Charles I in two but for some reason- the innate flunkeyism of the human animal?- it didn't. The biggest believer is the Queen herself. We're told it's because she honestly believes she was given the job by God Himself that she keeps trudging her daily round- with that look on her face- and will never retire. For much of my life the nation has encouraged her in this fantasy. I was in my mid teens before anyone dared draw a caricature of her and- in spite of interim irreverence- we seem to be returning in the twilight of her reign- and mainly thanks to Helen bloody Mirren-  to the old sentimentalism, the old  deference. 

Which I hate. 

And always have done. 

Because it's undignified. Because a man's a man for a' that. Because I refuse to be in awe of a pegtop doll simply because it's  been draped in tinsel and stuck on top of the Christmas tree.  Because monarchy is the lynchpin of a system that's unjust and corrupt and stupid.

Because I'm an anarchist.

And that's why I 'm happy whenever something happens to remind us that the royal family are merely folk- and enjoy blow-jobs and cocaine binges as much as the next man or woman. The Queen herself has always been a figure of  uncompromisingly dull rectitude (yawn) but all round her it's been like the 120 Days of Sodom. Harry is a rakehell, so- in his day- was Charles, so was the Queen's sister Margaret, so was her uncle Edward VIII and her other uncle Prince George (whose death in wartime remains a classified state secret) and so on back to Edward VII who was an infamous whorermonger- and the last royal (before this weekend) to be blackmailed over his sex life. 

I don't know which of them got caught with his (?) trousers down this time. I don't suppose it matters. I just want to thank him.