The Royal Family are all Diana’s children on the Diamond Jubilee show
HAVE you seen the massive Diamond Jubilee tribute to the Royal Family hanging from Sea Containers House in London? It is the largest ever photograph of the Royal Family, measuring 100m by 70m and weighing nearly two tons. Odd, indeed, that photo that large can find no space for Prince William and Harry, or their dear old mum, Lady Diana.
So desperate are the Windsors to pretend to be like the rest of us the surprise is that the advert fails to feature them modelling a signature range of Diamond Jubilee underwear. It’s not hard to image Andrew spending 98% of his life with just his knickers on and Prince Eddie dressed in pleated pyjamas for almost all of his. Anne, of course, doesn’t wear underwear, having been hand sewn into her tweed all-in-one in 1972. Prince Charles doesn’t know what colour his undies are because they pulled onto this loins by a willing footman while it’s still dark.
You might have caught Andrew speaking to an obsequious Alan Titchmarsh on the telly. Andy, in full imbecilic mode, revealed about his upbringing:
“‘Mummy’ was probably the way that we would refer to her, but if we were particularly wanting something then we might be more respectful, saying ‘Your Majesty’. I’m sure it’s the same in your family, if you want something you will change your tone.”
Don’t be so sure, Andrew, who in that PR-driven quest to be just like us says that parenting in palace was split “50/50” between the Queen and the Duke of Edinburgh – the other 99% of the time, it was up to teachers, nannies and the military. Andrew was never much cop at sums. He adds:
“We would usually see her in the afternoons and evenings, the usual sort of bath-time routine. Then Father would usually read us a story or we would read to him. We would read the Just So Stories.”
And they do love things Just So. Thoughts turn to greenie Prince Charles, who when he’s not shagging another man’s wife – a fellow officer in mummy’s army – and flying by jet to talk about the environment, is picking out a good egg. As Jeremy Paxman wrote in his book On Royalty, Charles has lots of eggs boiled ‘Just So’ for his breakfast but only eats the one that’s just the right consistency:
“If the Prince felt that number five was too runny, he could knock the top off number six or seven,”
Princess Anne then tells the fawning Titchmarsh:
“[Buckingham Palace] is a big place to grow up in and there are so many things going on, so you are only part of the process. Certainly as far as we were concerned you were definitely not the lead item in the establishment.”
It’s just like living on big housing estate, ins’t it, Anne. The graffiti is the art; the family all live on top of one another; you’re all on income support; and there’s lots of violence, as Andrew says:
“Myself and my younger brother [Prince Edward] would play on this passageway. We have some glass cabinets with some really quite expensive ornaments in them. In all the time we played up here not one pane of glass was broken. Don’t ask me why or how.”
We know why. You were playing with Edward. He adds:
“The only difference [between the older siblings, Charles and Anne, and the younger ones, Andrew and Edward] was that when we used to play cushion fights the older ones were able to throw the cushions harder than the younger ones and for some reason it was always the older ones against the younger ones, so we used to come off worse. My sister will tell you I was just there to be hit.”
Plus ca change.
His daughter Princess Eugenie adds:
“Granny would take us raspberry picking and we would have the raspberry jam from the raspberries we’d picked that day on the table for tea. She just loves having us around. She’s the happiest there that I’ve seen.”
You can imagine them picking the berries, telling the gardener to take them indoors and have the jam cook turn them into a lovely spread.
But the last word on the horror is supplied by John Lyndon, the Sex Pistols’ lead gobshite, who in 1977 when the Queen’s Silver Jubilee was high, called the Queen a “fascist” and consigned her to history. He tells the Times:
“My message to the Queen, this time, is to gather family together and have a good old picnic. There’s nothing better than getting pleasantly drunk in the sun, is there? Nobody’s taking the Jubilee too seriously and I don’t think they should. The Royal Family seem more confused than most families, but then they are living in a birdcage. I don’t understand why they don’t rebel, why they are subservient to the cruelty of the situation. We imprison them. It’s like when people paid a penny to enter the madhouse and see a loony.”
The Royal Family are no longer the entitled undemocratic elite the Republicans want to get rid of; they are everyday folk thrust into an unusual situation from which they cannot escape. What once went for Diana alone now goes for them all. The Republican movement died when the Windsors starting pretending to be human beings. Diana saved them…