posted on Nov, 4 2018 @ 08:04 PM
“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
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
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