There’s a moment in life when you’re walking down the street and thoughts you really hadn’t considered at all before hit you seemingly out of nowhere. Sometime they’re excellent new ideas for problems you might have had or brand spanking new inventions to change the world and take it by storm. Before long the rest of humanity will be lying at your feet in newfound adoration.
However, occasionally these new notions will trouble you profoundly. You’ll be confronted with crippling uncertainty regarding your mortality and whatnot. For dear old David Cameron, the story was a slightly different twist on this old friend of a tale.
He was wandering down the street one day without a care in the world. Everything was going pretty swimmingly at work, he’d finally hit his stride and on course for great things. He even had his eye on a promotion to Grand Overlord of the Empire (really big changes were in the works. Huge). A spring had managed to work its way into his step and he was very slightly fighting the impulse to whistle. Or possibly hum.
But then he happened to notice something on the floor. It was a bedraggled stamp or very possibly a coin carelessly flicked into the gutter. Whatever the particulars, David saw the forlorn image of the Queen peering up at him from way down below. Suddenly, he was plagued by overwhelming worries about lovely Liz the Second.
If people like Jeremy Corbyn are no longer willing to blindly sing their subservience to the monarch then how is her unquestionable place in the world to ever be secure again? And once the royal family falls is there any way to guarantee that the upper classes won’t be next? It was a real downer for the day that started out so very happy. Poor David and his royal quandaries.