People give far too much credence nowadays to what the public think. If Charles had any true ambition he’d knock his mother’s noble rump off the royal seat she’s been warming for a decade or three longer than would be good for anyone and finally make the ascent to power he’s been gagging for all these years.
He’d at long last achieve that childhood dream he’s been nursing all these years and that shiny golden hat would give him the stones he needs to disband parliament and assume the benevolent dictatorship the country is clearly on the very brink of admitting it truly needs. You see, if you’re going to subscribe to all this pomp and circumstance of birth, the divine right of kings and that, you really do have to accept that it’s an all or nothing situation.
This isn’t Britain’s Got Monarchs, you can’t pick and choose and finally vote for the monarch you like best with the glossiest hair or flashiest smile. Who gives a monkey’s as to whether or not the wider populace are on board with the current heir to the throne or not? The mere fact that they haven’t risen up in glorious revolution against the hereditary institution swaddled in ermine and waving sceptres means that they’ve lost their right to an opinion regarding the current occupant of the fancy chair. Me included, worse luck.
So while there might be some squabbling at the moment regarding how Mrs Wales fills her days, it’s largely irrelevant. They might argue that she shouldn’t be a midwife or an astronaut or a rocket propelled banjo playing teacher but at the end of the day such views are entirely irrelevant. Unless the assassins manage to fulfil their mission and collect their bounty before good queen Bess the second pops her majestic clogs.