Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth the 2nd, has died. Did you hear? Possibly not. If you were buried in a hole in the garden with no sound available and limited WiFi, you may have missed it. Otherwise, you already know and thus have started your very own outpouring of grief, sorrow and despair. If you’re a foreigner or tourist you’ll already be outside Buckingham Palace, camping on the pavement in the pissing down rain, as part of a vast crowd of mourners and monarchists who don’t know (the tourists) and don’t care (the monarchists) that the demised monarch is in fact in Edinburgh. Possibly, its just a symbolic gesture, and possibly because they’re too mean to get on a train to Scotland to do it properly.

The Queen was reaching the end of her long, dedicated and exceptionally wonderful life, so they called up, among others, Andrew and Meghan and when she learned they were coming, she chose what we’d all do in those circumstances and rushed off to the Palace in the Sky. Given a choice between Prince Andrew and the Angel of Death, we’d all do the same.

And thus we need all learn the lyrics to our new national anthem. God Save The Person With a Crown. To allow for future pronoun issues. Although on all emails from Her Majesty, her pronouns of choice were always ‘one, one’s, one’.

Prince Charles has been promoted to King Charles. Camilla is taking over temporarily as Queen whilst William is caretaker manager of Wales. In the royal re-shuffle.

Charles was given the option of his kingly name. Ok, Charles would have been a shoe-in, so you’d think. But royals do it different. He could have used any of his names. And he has many. Because previous king Charles-es have not done very well. The first beheaded for treason and the second exiled for most of his life. But Charlie chose Charlie. On the principle of third time lucky.

Tomorrow I shall track every moment of Elizabeth’s life, from the first photo with a dummy in her mouth (gold one) and nappies (hand-woven silk), through the years. Oh, sorry, every newspaper has already done that. Almost as if the obits were already written and ready!!!

The Queen is brown bread. Long live the plonker.

Happy, but sad, Friday

A xxxx