Helleow,

I’m you’re Queen. Elizabeth. You know the one. Old. Wrinkly. Sweet. Royal. And I wish to address you, the entire population of my nation, on the matter of ‘the son who cannot be named’. The Un-Son, but not in the heroic sense.

And I am deeply, profoundly saddened to have to announce that as from Thursday, January 13th, 2022, That Person is no longer a part of the royal family. Even more sadly, he is still my son. But no longer a Royal one. We have un-Royaled him in the most serious of ways. He can no longer use ‘HRH’, nor can he ponce around dressed as a toy soldier at official gatherings. (His medals, all 497 of them, will be on ebay on Tuesday so be sure to make your bids early.) He will no longer be an active ‘working Royal’. Which you can tell by the obvious fact that he’ll be doing what he’s always done whilst working, which is nothing, but doing it out of fancy dress from now on. And without the salary of £587,000 a year he previously earned. Plus all the fees he received for prostituting himself to anyone in the world who wished to make contact with me.

This almost unprecedented move of taking the royalness out of a Prince comes about after lengthy consideration and discussion with my eldest son, the one with the predilection for somewhat older women, most unlike his brother, and his son, William, who as yet has not manifest any overt sexual deviation or peculiarity. Of which we are thus far aware. In my family: never say ‘never’. And between them, Charles and William have reached the brave but necessary decision required. Of throwing Andrew not exactly ‘under the bus’ but more ‘under a rather splendid, gilt edged, horse-drawn carriage’. Which we feel is more appropriate.

What is of course most important is that the sleazy little shit is in some way distanced from The Family when he goes to court in America to defend the indefensible.

My family history goes back to the Battle of Hastings, to the Bayeux Tapestry, to King Arthur and in all those centuries we’ve never had any family member actually caught kiddy-fiddling. So until we can resolve these allegations, we must simply protect the Royal image totally. And I thought last year was our worst shit-storm with the Harry nonsense. One can always depend on one’s family. Andrew is perhaps one too many.

Happy Saturday

Her Maj
Xxxx