Like all who are singled out for special privileges in this life, the thing that the Prince of Wales wants most is to be normal. Well, if we’re being entirely honest that’s probably not completely accurate. However, he’s all twisted up and turned around because he really isn’t supposed to long for the death of his mother. So normality and the opposite of notoriety is really what he’s after, he told me so himself.
But what do you get the man who has access to very nearly everything? He’ll go to places and be recognised. Once you’ve clocked someone as royalty it’s surprisingly difficult to act as if they’re not touched by the Lord Almighty or however the feudal system has taught us peasants over the centuries to act. This is what I’ve been told at any rate, I’m sure I’d be able to resist such subservient tendencies. If I didn’t then I reckon my fellow ardent republicans (not the American kind) would disown me forevermore.
Anyway, what our plucky prince of the realm requires above all else is a rite of passage we all go through at one stage or another. He should be incarcerated in a stuffy train carriage where he can’t get a seat and is making its crawling way to the arse end of nowhere. And then be confronted with a rail replacement service bus.
Alternatively, Charlie could be plunged headfirst into a heaving traffic jam with no hope of getting to where he would want to be any time soon and with nothing to turn to for sustenance apart from a pack of stale biscuits or dusty travel sweets hiding at the back of the glove compartment. Because when you think about it, once Charles makes it through an ordeal like that he will have become a man of the people. That’ll detract attention away from his son, that bint he married and their deliciously pudgy babies.