A King's Ransom

Written September 2024

Are you a pensioner, who has had the much-needed energy grant taken away? Are you worried about how you will pay your energy bills this winter? Well, there is one pensioner who definitely is not. (Not My) King Charles, despite having several palaces to heat, is most certainly not worried, for old lucky bollocks is set to have a salary increase. And not a salary increase that the likes of you and I might expect, by which I mean one that barely supports the average household’s annual toilet paper bill. No, a very different story for Charlie. The serial hypocrite who calls himself King, and who clearly sees himself as far superior to us mere mortals, will see his salary, labelled as a “sovereign grant”, rise from a piffling £86 million for the year 2024/25, to the slightly less piffling £132 million for the year 2025/26, a more than 50% increase. No worrying about the gas bill at the palace, eh? Not satisfied with living a life of enormous luxury, he is happily going to trouser yet more bags of cash, for doing pretty much piss all. For those Blackadder fans amongst you, this is like Series 3, but in the modern age. (Not My) King Charles is exactly like the brilliantly portrayed Prince George, who spends inordinate amounts of cash on socks and slap-up dinners at the Naughty Hellfire Club, while dismissing the proles as nothing more than an irritation. We are to (Not My) King Charles the “oppressed masses” that the Prince Regent so despises. We are all Baldrick.

If your instant reaction to this is to call me heartless because “he’s got cancer”, I urge you to pipe down. My sympathy lies with all those ordinary people, who must try and maintain a job to pay the mortgage or rent during their cancer struggle, while also navigating a health system designed to kill them. It does not lie with a man who has a choice of palaces within which to reside, while he rests on his laurels and receives the very best care available, which I am certain does not involve chemotherapy. That is if, indeed, he has cancer at all. (I can literally feel the seething anger from the royalists making its way telepathically to me. Lol).   

The royal family regard us ordinary people with utter contempt, and if you believe otherwise, you’re an idiot. It runs through their genes, just like haemophilia. If you are fooled by their displays of care for the people, as they wave at crowds, reluctantly shaking the odd hand, you are in serious need of a dose of the truth. These shows are make-believe. Pure fabrication. Pretence. Nothing more than theatre, to promote the idea that they are doing something for us, that they are in some way worthy of the riches and privilege that are bestowed upon them, simply by accident of birth. They are, of course, not worthy of such favour. Their so-called work is nothing of the kind, and not one member of the entire family has ever known what it is like to experience real work. Hard work. Tiring work. They are driven and flown around to banquets and functions, while the money simply flows into the coffers. They are laughing at us all, you can be sure of that.   

The absolute obscenity of (Not My) King Charles accepting such a hefty increase in income, indeed any increase at all, as the rest of the country are being told to expect increasing hardship and austerity is hard to encapsulate in words. Actually, perhaps it is not. Suddenly, as I consider it afresh, I am flooded with a slurry of words. His actions display monstrous greed, contempt, disdain, condescension, and outright sickening arrogance. Charles and the rest of his cretinous clan are parasites, sucking wealth from us, their hosts, and the sycophantic royalists who support their own oppression by cheering them on are responsible for allowing this thievery to continue. Royalists are perhaps the worst of us, waving their little flags for centenaries and coronations, and queuing for days in the pissing rain for a passing glance of one of the family through a carriage window.  

Still, next time you find yourself concerned at the size of the bill at the supermarket checkout, and deciding whether you can afford that extra packet of biscuits, soothe yourself with the knowledge that the Fortnum’s delivery truck is making its way on its weekly rounds to all the royal palaces, loading the pantries and refrigerators with everything the (Not My) King and his greedy kin desire. And when next you see a guilt-inducing, alarmist news article about the need to reduce your filthy carbon footprint – I mean, your one flight to Spain and back once a year means your grandchildren will burn for all eternity, you do know that, right? – know that when the royals board private jets willy nilly and visit far flung climes, it is simply because they are so much more worthy than us mere mortals. They deserve it more, and the rules they wish to impose on us do not apply to them.

The disgraceful hypocrisy playing out before our eyes needs to be confronted. We, the people, must stand up and say “no”. Surely you, too, are sick of this affront to fairness, to humanity? Blackadder, as always, hit the nail on the head. The people are calling for “peace, freedom and a few less fat bastards eating all the pies.”

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