One of the drawbacks about being the Queen is having your significant birthdays hijacked by people desperate to outdo one another in proclamations of undying loyalty and adoration. And no one does obsequiousness disguised as “The Queen, who has been lucky to know me and agrees with me on so many of the most important issues of the day” better than the political class.
David Cameron listed her achievement in meeting a quarter of all US presidents, giving council to 12 prime ministers – Dave was keeping his fingers crossed she wouldn’t be adding to that number any time soon – and visited 116 countries. How does she do it, he asked. Back home in Windsor Castle, HM rolled her eyes and muttered: “By a bit of good luck, excellent healthcare and by not having stopped breathing, you idiot.”
Having rattled off long sections of the Queen’s Wikipedia entry, Dave sat down. It had all been a bit perfunctory. Dave secretly believes the Queen is not as posh as him and he doesn’t quite get why the country doesn’t make such a fuss about his own mum. Besides, going on and on about being 90 is a little déclassé; a proper gentleman never discusses a woman’s age in public.
Much to the disappointment of many on the Tory benches who had only turned up to see the leader of the opposition squirm, Jeremy Corbyn delivered a far more personal and heartfelt speech, spoiled only by his insistence that the Queen is a secret Arsenal fan. This was a slur too far even for a man with a secret republican heart. The Queen may have her faults but being a friend of Piers Morgan, long spells on the injury list and moaning about every single little thing that goes wrong while eating overpriced prawn sandwiches aren’t among them. Just about the only thing she does have in common with a Gooner is a preference for being seen but not heard.
As the closest thing the Commons has to a hereditary MP (his grandfather was Winston Churchill), Nicholas Soames was the first backbencher to be called. He reeled off a few obligatory cliches lifted straight out of the pages of Majesty magazine – “punctilious”, “formidable”, “sense of duty” – before slipping in a reference to fighting at the Battle of Omdurman and pointing out that the Queen had been crowned in the same abbey as he had.
Thereafter it was all a bit of a free-for-all. The SNP’s Angus Robertson insisted that the Queen’s favourite home was Balmoral, which was too much for Conservative Henry Bellingham who was adamant that Sandringham, which just happened to be in his Norfolk constituency, was actually her favourite place in the world. The DUP’s Nigel Dodds then went on to suggest the Queen was a direct descendant of God, while Labour’s Gerald Kaufman prostrated himself on the floor of the chamber in abject obeisance, sobbing: “This isn’t about the Elizabeth on our coins, but about the Elizabeth in our hearts.”
The nadir was Conservative Michael Ellis reciting an anecdote about a conversation he’d had with the Queen about a chain on a unicorn that might have been on the wrong way round but wasn’t.
This was too much for some. George Osborne decided to cut his losses early, while Dave passed the time reading biographies of obscure backbenchers in the parliamentary Who’s Who. Yet still the desperate quest for some kind of honorific preferment went on, with David Amess wittering on about how he made a point of gatecrashing the 100th birthday parties of all his constituents.
At this point the Queen had had more than enough. “I hope that horrid little man isn’t going to gatecrash my party, Phil,” she said.
“No chance, Liz old dear,” the Duke of Edinburgh replied, switching off the TV.
“Less of the old or I won’t come and visit you in hospital the next time your ticker plays up.”
“You didn’t come last time,” Phil said sulkily.
Back in the Commons, Lib Dem Tim Farron stood up to say something.
• This article was amended on 22 April 2016. An earlier version referred to HM (Her Majesty) as HRH (Her Royal Highness).
