On Wednesday the Queen of Scots took a trip on the new Borders Railway, and some elderly wummin from Windsor joined Nicola Sturgeon on the journey. The BBC has been having a collective royorgasm over the fact that an 89 year old woman with a permanently sour expression hasn’t died yet. She’s now the longest serving monarch, although why monarchs are described as “serving” is never explained. We’re the ones who do the serving. Tomorrow she’ll be an even longer self-serving monarch so presumably we’ll be betting this media monarchlimaxing again tomorrow, and every day from now on. Although to be honest, that isn’t really very different from what we’ve had to put up with over the previous 60 odd years.
Although much of the media persists in referring to her as Elizabeth II, Scotland has never had a queen Elizabeth before, so calling her the second is innumerate. But then academia was never the strong point of a family whose pastimes revolve around killing wildlife while posing as chairpersons of wildlife protection charities. The correct title for the current monarch in Scotland is of course Elizabeth the Last. And she’s not Queen of Scotland, on account of the fact that the Scottish monarch was traditionally regarded as first among equals and the rest of us consider that we have the right to depose him or her when they do thing that displease. Such as purring at referendums or buying helicopters for their grandson while claiming they’re feeling austerity with the rest of us. This is in accordance with the ancient royal Gaelic principle of tanistry, which loosely translates as Do You Really Need to Be Reminded About Thon Coalmine in Sverdlovsk Pal. Deposing the monarch was Scotland’s most popular parcipatory sport until the fitba was invented, and unlike kicking a baw aboot, it was one we were really rather good at.
The full correct title of Elizabeth the Last in Scotland is Queen of Those Scots Who Give a Toss About the Royals, which is an ever decreasing number and mostly consists of Ruth Davidson and people who think that Councillor Gordon Mccaskill is a wit and ranconteur. It’s a safe bet that once Liz shuffles off and we’re lumbered with Charles, that number will decrease to a number approximately equal to the current membership of the Conservative party in Scotland. So about a dozen then. It’s likewise a safe bet that the Westminster Parliament will never consent to a referendum on the future of the monarchy, which is yet another reason that Scottish independence gets more and more attractive with every passing day. Alicsammin might have expressed support for the monarchy, but he’s not a king either, a point which seemingly has escaped much of the UK media.
Liz the Last’s determination to last means that a grateful nation of forelock tuggers who exist only in TV studios and newspaper columns can continue to name things after her without consulting the rest of us, despite the fact she’s neither paid for them nor supported them in any shape or form. We have the BBC to thank for showing us the real meaning of Great British Sycophancy, the new game show to be presented by Mel and Sue in which C list celebrities you’ve never heard of will compete to see how far they can get their tongues up the backside of a minor royal while icing an Empire biscuit with a portrait of Princess Diana.
It’s a remarkable achievement, oiled all time sycophancy champion Nicholas Witchell as he spoke into his Queen Elizabeth microphone while reporting from beside the Queen Elizabeth Border Railway on the Queen Elizabeth asphalt, that an 89 year old woman is still alive despite the fact that her personal fortune is only slightly larger than the annual budget of a developing nation that has churlishly refused to name itself after her.
Even though she is marginally less wealthy than a Russian oligarch, she asks for nothing for herself and large numbers of her relatives, except £40 million annually from the Sovereign Grant, £13 million annually from the Duchy of Lancaster, and £19 million annually from the Duchy of Cornwall. Plus perks, like the upkeep of all those castles and palaces with their spare bedrooms that won’t be seeing a Syrian refugee any time soon. The campaign group Republic estimates that the true cost is around £300 million. The DWP doesn’t even insist on a fit for work test. All that waving costs you know. White gloves don’t come cheap and sour expressions are hard to keep up. Gawd bless ‘er. She needs all that money, because she has to support the likes of Prince Andrew, who is so inept that he would actually fail a DWP fit for work test.
On Wednesday, to celebrate the fact that she’s never had to face a fit for work assessment at the Queen Elizabeth Job Centre or had her benefits sanctioned, she’s even gone and got on a train just like normal people, enthused the team of BBC’s reporters on today’s sooking up duties, because there’s so much arselicking on display today that even Nicholas’s tongue isn’t long or lubricated enough. Of course it’s not a normal train, commuter service was suspended so that the official Queen Elizabeth train could take over the Queen Elizabeth track, but then the plebs will be happy to give up a day’s income in celebration of the fact that an 89 year old woman with great private Queen Elizabeth healthcare hasn’t died yet.
Meanwhile back in the real world, a second opinion poll has confirmed that Scottish people are really no longer very enthused about this whole Union carry on. Someone won’t be purring about that news, but it’s drowned out on the telly amidst the tonguing. Gordie Broon will be grateful as it conveniently obscures his grudging admission that his Vow hasn’t been delivered after all, and that the UK government is “falling short” on the promise. That’s “falling short” in the same sense that Nicholas Witchell falls short of republicanism.
I’ll just console myself with the comforting thought that every new day of Liz the Last’s reign takes us a day closer to Scottish independence, and a referendum on a republic.
Order the Collected Yaps of the Wee Ginger Dug Vols 1 & 2 for a special pre-publication price of £20 for both volumes. Get your order in before September 28th and you will receive copies signed personally by me, and stamped with a special Wee Ginger Dug paw print. P&P will be extra, approximately £3 per single volume or £4 for both sent together. If you only want to order one volume, please specify which. Single volumes are available for the cover price of £10.95 per copy.
There’s no need to send any money just now, please send an email with WEE GINGER BOOK ORDER in the subject field to email@example.com giving your name, postal address, and email address and which volumes (1, 2 or both) you wish to order. I will contact you when the books are ready to be sent out and give details of how to make payment. Payment can be made by Paypal, or by cheque or bank transfer. If you wish to pay by cheque or bank transfer, please specify this in your email and I will send details when the books are ready.
Donate to the Dug This blog relies on your support and donations to keep going – I need to make a living, and have bills to pay. Clicking the donate button will allow you to make a payment directly to my Paypal account. You do not need a Paypal account yourself to make a donation. You can donate as little, or as much, as you want. Many thanks.