Eddie signs off YOE2018

His sigh seemed to echo around the room. The sound subtly changed and elongated as if to mock the young man as he sat at the heavy, ornate desk with it's profusion of drawers and gilded legs in the opulence of his study. The walls either covered with portraits of his forbears, in oils by old masters or shelves seemingly groaning under the weight of books, each heavy tome turgid with dates and relationships between the various members of all the great families.

Edward looked down at the single, blank page of creamy vellum before him and just gave up, letting his head fall to thump heavily upon the page. His blue eyes usually so full of mirth and life, now dull. His blonde hair spread out about his head like a halo as he lay slumped, his shoulders rising and falling with the rhythm of his breathing.

He was just about to check the clock again, to see if it was finally time to unlock the drinks cabinet when there was a swift knocking on the door, followed almost immediately by the swoosh of it opening and as he raised his head a fraction he could see his Equerry, Simon sweep into the office as though it were actually his, rather than the realm of the man he supposedly served.

“Go away Simon. I'm not ready for another of your rousing explanations of what is expected of me.”

The man smiled, utterly non nonplussed by his charge's attitude and he strode across the thick blood red carpet to stand before the desk expectantly “Of course Your Highness, I expect you have been very busy with the text of your speech, yes?” With that he looked down, pulled THAT face he always did when he disapproved of something Edward had done, then reached out and casually drew the paper out,, forcing Edward to raise his head in order to avoid a friction burn on his chin. Simon affected “The Frown of Disappointment” as he scanned the blank page and raised his dark, brown eyes above the level of his half moon, wire framed glasses.
The man seemed to have a frown for every occasion and Edward was acutely aware of each of them, just lurking beneath the calm, placid surface of his well worn face, ready to be deployed the instant he deemed Edward's performance fell below what was expected.

“Don't...don't say it Simon. I know, I know I need to write something and pass it on so some clever gnome tucked away under the stairs can turn what I have written into something utterly devoid of my original intent...Hey! Here's an idea for you old chap, why not...you know...just dispense with ruining my good humour and just go straight to the gnomes? Wouldn't that make more sense?”

“Sir..” Simon began, only to be interrupted.

“Yes, yes, this is how it has to be done, I know that, but dash it all man, I haven't even been crowned yet and you have me writing my blasted eulogy? What are we doing this afternoon? Going to the workshops to make a coffin and scratch my moniker into a headstone?” Edward blew his cheeks out in an effort to emphasize just how put out he was, in case the omniscient equerry had missed this. Not that there was any chance of that he thought glumly.

Simon smiled rather indulgently, in the manner of an uncle watching a favourite nephew just fail, for the millionth time to cast a fly to the right part of a stream.
“Very good Sir” He answered as though nothing whatsoever was amiss. “Perhaps a break would help?” He cast his own fly. Such a tantalising little morsel, no fish would notice the hook amid the fur and feather and tiny golden glitters...

“Yes” Simon pounced on the offer. Seeing only escape from his current state of drudgery and utterly failing to notice the hook.

“Excellent, Sir. I have a pot of tea and some sandwiches being sent up to the lounge at the moment and I am pleased to be able to tell you that the Prime Minister is en route and will be with you directly for the meeting we arranged yesterday.”

Damn it all, man!” Edward groused “I can't stand that odious bloody woman. Why do I have to meet her? Why can't she just...I don't know...Skype me or send an email or something?” He knew the answer...This was how it was to be done...

“This is a matter of state, Your Highness. It is how it has to be...”

“Done! I know, I know.” The Prince puffed out his cheeks again in another show of his agitation. “You would think, being King, would mean I could just snap my fingers and have things done, but the reality seems to be that it's other people clicking their fingers and expecting me to be the one running around like a blue arsed fly.”

Simon tutted at such a vulgar expression and his condemnation was magnified by the way he walked to the door and held it open while he smiled at Edward as if to say “You can whine all you like but it's time to perform more tricks for your real masters.”


Edward held back a sigh as he watched the rime Minister's chubby fingers select the last of the roast beef and horseradish sandwiches from the china platter, leaving him with a single triangle of white bread sparsely filled with egg mayonnaise and cress. He raised his eyes to her face and almost bit through his cheek as he struggled with the burning desire to grab the plate, smash it over his own head and shout for his guards to come and save him by bayoneting the horrible woman right there on the sofa.

“Oh it is nearly finished Prime Minister” He said in reply to her question about his accession speech and his eulogy. Then those piggy little eyes of hers bored into him and as he stared, transfixed by a blob of horseradish on the corner of her mouth, he doubled down on his own stupidity by adding “I can have a copy couriered to Number ten this afternoon.” He gave her a smile he wasn't really feeling as at that moment, his inner voice was chiding him for his stupid, cowardly inability to face up to unpleasant situations.

“Mmm...Yes, that would be splendid Your Maj...Highness” She corrected herself, brushing those pudgy fingers over the platter, as if she really intended to scatter her own crumbs over the remaining sandwich and expect him to eat it.

“I should have you taken out and tied to the Victoria Memorial and take Pot shots at you with Gramp's old elephant gun” He looked around in alarm before he was sure he had managed to just think, rather than say that and the next twenty minutes crawled by in a tortuous sort of tedium only broken by his increasingly bizarre fantasies of how to rid himself of his Prime Minister until, he looked over to Simon, Appearing in the doorway to signal the end of the audience like John Mills looked at the pint at the end of Ice Cold in Alex.

“She wants to link taxes and votes! Can you believe that? She actually thinks it is a good idea to let people with the most money have the most votes and the poorest to have the fewest! Damn the woman, I am sure I could lean on someone at Grays who could make a case for me owning everything and therefore getting all the bloody votes. Then I would vote to throw her into the Tower for...Oh, about 60 years and...”

“Your Highness, please, your speech and, your eulogy.”Simon waved his hand vaguely in the direction of the not quite as blank as it was piece of vellum and he sighed.

“Yes, I am on, it, sorry old chap, it's just that she makes my blood boil. She really does, the sodding, flipping, fat old trout. Who does she think she is? Coming in here and te...”

“Sir” Simon protested and, with another sigh, Edward shook his head and bent to his task, scratching the nib of his pen across the vellum before placing the pen down on the desk and lifting the page up without meeting Simon's eyes in the manner of a journalist holding up his copy for a runner to take to the editor.

Simon left a minute later with the draft of the accession speech to take it to one of the palace staff charged with turning the insane ramblings of an over privileged, (likely) inbred monarch into something meaningless and inoffensive, yet at the same time, grand in scope and impact.

“Should probably pay them more” Edward mused as he swirled his reward around and breathed in the peaty aroma of the golden Jura malt in the heavy crystal tumbler. As he thought about his eulogy, he scratched a short list of his favourite hymns...Or at least the ones that didn't make him wish he was born deaf. His mind wandered again and he thought about how long it had been since a King or Queen of England actually did anything worthwhile, in a big way, at least...He smirked as he thought to include insults and attacks on the people he utterly despised for how they cajoled and conned the electorate into entrusting them with the power to shape the country but the smile faded as he realised that whatever was read out after his death would be censored up the ying yang and back. That was when the idea hit him and he placed the glass back down and, for the first time in his adult life, set to the task before him with a passion.

It was with no small shock that he looked up to see Simon entering the office and he realised, with a gasp that he had worked on through the afternoon until Dinner.
He smiled at Simon and collected his papers, seeing the confusion in the other man's face. “I think that whisky was just the trick old boy, a little break was all I needed. I shall tidy this up a bit over dinner and you can deliver it to the gnomes when I've finished.” He swept past the stunned equerry and added “Did Miss Piggy like the accession speech?”

“She...ummm...” This was fresh territory for Simon and he struggled gamely to regain his composure. Years of experience finally telling as he replied “She did, Your Highness and she has made a few suggestions for the final draft which I am sure you will agree with when you see them.” If he was sure of anything, Simon was sure that his charge would most definitely not agree with them, but it was his job to help the Prince steer a course that would ensure the survival of his monarchy into the future and that most definitely meant not antagonising his Prime Minister.

Dinner flew by, and late into the night Edward wrote, amended, deleted and re wrote what he knew to be the most important document any of his family had ever written.

He ummed and ahhed and feigned displeasure with the final draft of the accession speech. Smiled and nodded at the tidied up version of his Eulogy and sent Simon off to have the first bound, ready for his coronation and the latter secured in the palace safe, ready for his funeral. He smiled rather madly at the gloominess of it all but sipped appreciatively at the final glass of champagne from the night's bottle of Krug before he headed off to bed and dreams of what the new day would bring.

The big, oak doors boomed. The sound reverberating around the great hall in the Palace of Westminster. Arrayed before him were all the members of Parliament, the Lords, the clergy, the senior members of his armed forces, the family....even, he was delighted to note, mad uncle John who was busy turning his head about like he had a tick and smiling frantically in every direction since he wasn't sure where the television cameras were located.

The ceremony went on...and on...and on. If it wasn't for what he had planned, this would have been just another dull day of utter drudgery. This day was different and, by the time he had been anointed by the Bishop and crowned King of England, Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland...and a bunch of other places. He was ready. Simon gave him a look of pride. Real this time as he approached, knelt and handed him the folder with the carefully crafted speech typed up in it, complete with the Prime Minister's alterations.
Edward set it on the gilt lectern and, to the consternation of one or two people, reached inside his ermine robe and produced a smaller sheaf of folded vellum, spreading the sheets out carefully on top of the folder. He looked up, seeing the great and the good and the big and the bad arrayed before him. His mouth suddenly dry, he swallowed, then began.

“I accept the burden placed upon me and swear to do my duty to my subjects both at home and abroad.” This part at least was pro forma and his speech rattled on nicely as he observed all the legal niceties and paid his dues by saying the words that were expected of him. The final paragraph lay there. Seeming to be burning on the page or maybe that was just his own eagerness.

“For far too long, no monarch has challenged the elected representatives of the people. Always acutely aware of the morality overshadowing the relationship between the elected and the ennobled. One eye always on the continuance of privilege, weighing that against whatever ills might befall one's subjects.” He stopped to look up and take in the expressions on the faces of those in this grand old palace and his lips twitched into a smile at seeing the first signs of unease on the faces amongst the ranks.
“My government, more specifically, my Prime Minister, has intimated a plan to change our system of universal suffrage into something that can only be described as a “Pay to Win” system. I am sure the younger amongst us will be familiar with the term as it applies to computer games which offer an insurmountable advantage to those prepared to pay extra over those who merely rely on skill.”

“For decades now, our nation has been ill served by career politicians who's first instincts are self preservation and self enrichment. The concept of service to the nation having long since died out in the circles from which the political class spews forth the next generation of thieves and charlatans.”

He reached up, tilted his crown at a jaunty angle then smiled directly into the space where he knew the closest micro camera would be.
“I swore to defend my subjects and this nation from all threats, therefore, I now order parliament to be dismissed with immediate effect. These people don't serve you, they don't care about you, they lie and cheat and steal with every foetid breath. There will be a referendum, the choice stark. We can continue with a parliamentary system in which Miss Piggy over there.” He nodded towards the Prime Minister “And her chums can continue to steal your futures away or we can move to a direct form of democracy. Where each of us has the chance to examine each issue and cast our votes without recourse to this den of thieves. I realise this is a shock to you all, but know this, should you choose parliament, I will abdicate and walk away from this office never to return. I do not want to be King of a people trodden down into the dirt by those who should be serving them.”

Silence...then gasps and finally shouts as the full import of his words made it past the years of insulation from the real world that all these idiots had wrapped around themselves.

He glanced down one final time to make sure he hadn't missed anything, for once in his life, Edward was sure he hadn't.

That's when he saw it. A small note in pencil in the margin.

“I think a speech of this magnitude doesn't need to go through the gnomes. I am proud of you Edward

S”

The end.

Well done!

Loved it.

P

a reply to: pheonix358

Thanks

There actually was a time when there were people such as your newly anointed King.. Now it seems to be more of keep your head down and cooperate to graduate mentality..

On the hunt it is usually the one who sticks his head up that ends up in the pot for cooking or maybe JFKed..

a reply to: 727Sky


True, that's why I went this way, so that his accession speech could also be interpreted as a eulogy for the end of his reign.

a reply to: SprocketUK

Well done!

A very enjoyable read, thank you for posting!

S n F !



Respectfully,
~meathead

a reply to: Mike Stivic

Thanks glad you enjoyed it.

Bumpy mcbumper bumpity bump.



Respectfully,
~meathead

Nice take on the theme! I felt it was challenging, you pulled if off well.

Nicely done. I enjoyed it very much.

Thanks both Pity we couldn't get enough entries for this one but it was fun reading the ones we had