Royal Celebrations Are Out of Touch and Outdated

But don’t tell my fellow countrymen I said so, okay?

On the 6th of May, King Charles III will rock up to Westminster Abbey in a horse-drawn golden carriage so ludicrously blinged-up that it would make a pimp blush, to be granted divine superpowers via oil anointment — as is tradition. Cue the flag-waving mass gatherings, the forced fun of street parties, and a tenfold increase in tacky royal memorabilia.

All of this will occur against the backdrop of a country whose economy has stalled, and whose citizens have been increasingly pushed into poverty thanks to a greedy energy sector and an inept government. Oh, and that Royal soap opera featuring Mr. Spare (who wishes to remain anonymous) and his allegedly racist, secretive, power-hungry family.

According to reports, Charles has opted for a “shorter, smaller, and more diverse” ceremony. I suppose by small, he means the biggest military parade in 60 years, and by diverse, he means LGBTQ+ communities get to sing in the choir before they are invited to pray for “thy chosen servant Charles our King and Governor… that we and all his subjects may faithfully serve honour and humbly obey him.” Call me a party pooper, but that’s a prayer I’m not sure I can get behind, tradition or not.

Of course, we’ve had quite a few of these royal occasions lately. Notably, the late Queen’s platinum jubilee, shortly followed by her passing. The latter of which brought the country into what can only be described as a state of psychosis. You may recall the 24+ hour, 10-mile-long queue to touch the Queen’s coffin. Perhaps the most stereotypically English thing ever conceived. The actions of a well-adjusted society for sure, right?

I also remember how the whole thing essentially became a national ‘battle royal’ (no pun intended) to see who could mourn the best, one which celebrities used to get themselves back in the spotlight. And while I was in Italy at the time for all of that, all those miles couldn’t stop me from feeling queasy and embarrassed.

But as any royalist will tell you, this is all totally normal and okay because, erm, money and influence, I guess?

Charles’s coronation will cost around £100 million (official numbers will not be released until after it’s all said and done), much of which is going on security (read: the stamping out of dissidence and protest utilizing our Orwellian anti-protest laws) but will “apparently” bring in a nice £1 billion thanks to all the tourism and TV ratings.

Can’t argue with that. I mean, it’s not quite enough to cover the £42 billion worth of assets Charles will now preside over, but still.

So why can’t I shake that bad taste I get when I see Royalist articles sitting beside “£1 meal ideas” on the UK’s BBC website? Why can’t I get into the party spirit like seemingly everyone else?

Never mind that our neighbours, the French, who don’t have to bother with any of this pompous malarkey, manage to bring in a whole lot more tourism than we do. As I write this, they’re a bit too busy fighting to avoid a new state pension age that most Brits would kill for (but never protest for). But hey, just “keep calm and carry on” and keep your complaints to yourself, please — as is the British way.

Still, I wonder how much of that “one billion” will make its way to that pensioner who had to ride the bus all day to stay warm last winter. Or the other quarter of the adult population who struggled to keep warm in their own living rooms. Probably not a whole lot. I’ve been told these events create a sense of togetherness and national identity. Funny how one bloodline can do that, but freezing grandmas can’t.

But I digress. And if I’m honest, I mostly hope to avoid all the flag-waving. And I hope to avoid the press storm that will surely follow whatever Harry and William will or won’t say to each other.

I hope that we can leave this stuff in the past. But as an Englishman, I feel that’s precisely where you’ll find us.

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