A Few More Things That Irritate Me About Britain. (Part two).
Where's Guy Fawkes when we need him!
"Hey, blood, call me Pope, heah!"
Queens, Kings and the Undeserving Titled Heads.
How are you today m’lud?
Yes, other maniacally deep hates of mine are queens, kings, (except Clark Gable) princes, princesses (except good old Di), lords, ladies, (except Ga-Ga), dukes (except John Wayne), duchesses, barons, baronesses, squires and even sirs. I mean, imagine, cousins, walking around and expecting blokes to call you Lord, Your Highness, Your Majesty - and nearly all titles signifying respect that is unearned. That’s the crux of the matter isn’t it? Most of this interbred shower of nincompoops have never done a full day’s work or done a darn thing to earn the toadying they receive. Regard Phillip, the queen’s consort, and Charlie, their son: career polo players! Look at the British House of Lords. About 300 fat, jowly old trough-feeders who have one foot in the grave and the intellect of Guinea pigs...brain damaged Guinea pigs. And the worst of them are the “Grace and Favour” members, some of whom have even bought their peerage from the very temporary members of Parliament, after donating huge sums to election campaigns.
Looking into the pasts of these greedy scions of privilege is an education in itself. If you have the time, patience and good sources, you will find many of them have outright crooks and pirates as ancestors. The British royals own property, both real and moveable estate, purloined from all over the planet when Britain was the big bully on the block. Ask good old Liz where the Koh-I-Noor diamond came from and how it was obtained. (Taken from India...they want it back). And that’s just one bauble (worth about as much as Ireland though).
Then there are the other blood-suckers, the church hierarchy. “Hey, blood, jus’ call me Pope, heah!?” Popes, Arch-Bishops, High Priests and all expecting to be called “Father!” Father my patootsie! Try asking “father” if he can slip you a fiver, lend you the car or run you to school. Not a chance, because all this lot are born with their hands firmly held out and expecting them to be crossed with silver, as it is their birthright; their privilege, or their divine right. They don’t pray for us as much as prey on us!
Like they say you know when a politician’s lying...his mouth is moving; you know when any of these titled pricks aren’t worth the time of day. That’s when they insist on anyone using these dumb titles. I personally never would, even your majesty, but most British are serial forelock-touchers and love to grovel before their “betters.!” But there are a few - and they are usually the ones who are war -heroes, or leaders in medicine and the arts who have earned some respect - who refuse to use the titles conferred upon them and insist on being called “Mr/Mrs” or even by their first names. Do you breathe a sigh of relief, Aussies? (if ever a land was free from this crappola it’s our buds from the Antipodes). A queen means one thing down-under, mate, and it don’t wear no bloody crown!
Americans, too, don’t support this nonsense hardly at all in their own land (except for the religious lot), but they do rather like to see it in England. A bit like coming to the zoo, I suppose, all those smelly creatures are fine in their cages (read tiny islands) but we don’t really want them in Peoria!
Many UK citizens have also really had enough of much of it. The royals have behaved badly of late, (always, actually), and all politicians are looked down upon at the moment as liars and thieves. The British are not generally very religious, so the pomp and pageantry of the high church doesn’t play a huge part in the society. (Except papal visits which are huge con jobs netting much money).
We do have one black spot on the horizon, the marriage of William and Kate Middleton next year - another trainee king and queen. The planning amuses me in a country practically on the edge of extinction. All the little royal bum kissers are in full flight; the expenses to each and every man in the kingdom will soon be levied. Why can’t these super-rich twits pay for it all themselves? Liz could sell just one bauble and pay for the wedding ten times over (and fix the palace roof she is whingeing about). But, no, they can’t sell a stick or a bean, this is...wait for it...the Nation’s Heritage and must be passed on down the royal line...for you and me HAHAHA!
Well, all these bootless cries and I haven’t even reached the wan, er, bankers. Maybe we’ll go to a part three as the hated aristocracy used up our time herein...Whew!
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