A Royal Pain

23 Jul

Kate Middleton had a baby last night.

This was news I was anticipating and also dreading.  Why?  Because along with the expected hoopla and celebratory tea and scones from the Brits (which, once again, reinforces to me how much I wish I was British, but that’s another story), we also got the obligatory ‘who gives a crap about the royal baby?’ whingers.

And they were everywhere! Declaring their feelings of resentment and not-caring to anyone with ears or a functioning touch screen.  No-big-deal mums claiming that they went through childbirth along with every other woman on earth and why should we be so interested in it?  Political pains who decided to take personal offense to Australian fascination with anything to do with the monarchy. Gosh, it was dramatic.

Well, you know what Debbie Downers?  I AM interested in it and it IS kind of a big deal! So scoff all you like, but I unashamedly love the royal family and their hoity-toity accents and interesting choices in headwear.  I think Kate Middleton is a bloody fox and a half and she just gave birth to a future king.  AN ACTUAL KING!  Not like when regular babies are born and their doting, blinded-by-love parents call them their little ‘prince’ or ‘princess’.  No, no.  This kid is ACTUALLY A PRINCE who will one day sit on a freaking throne and have his face embossed on a two dollar coin.  Let’s just say, if I was living in Britain right now I would be all about the union jack face paint and a smart plastic crown.

The funny thing is, all the Negative Nancy’s publishing their disdain for the royal birth are the same people who like to clog my news feeds or water cooler discussions with football score updates or their kid’s latest bowl movement. (I could go on for days about this, but that’s another time, another blog). People in glass houses…

My fascination and affection for Queenie and her strange family has no political motivation or meaning.  I just really like her and her colour blocking outfits.  I always thought she looked a little like my nanna.  And she lives in a palace.

Speaking of my nanna, there are some people here in Australia who just die for the royals.  As well as other relatives of mine, my nanna kept and to this day still owns the souvenir edition of Woman’s Weekly from when Charles and Diana got married.  And Fergie and Prince Andrew.  (God, remember Fergie?  That was an epic ginger mop.  And she married a prince.  Now that’s the definition of inspiration.) These are the people who grew up with the royal family and tape Queenie giving her Christmas Day speech on VHS.  Don’t they deserve a moment?

And you know, it’s nice to still have the royals around, considering the usual media saturation given to things like Kim Kardashian’s butt.  And ladies don’t tell me the sight of Prince Harry in his military uniform doesn’t make you drop an egg.  But I digress…

Look, the point is, haters gonn hate.

But it’s one day.  Let us have our British fun, would you?  Tomorrow you can go back to talking about what you made for dinner last night.

Long live Prince-Whatever-His-Name-Is!

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