Another royal baby has arrived, nearly a week late, to general rejoicing. But not everywhere. Pretty soon a crotchety Republican was moaning on telly about our royal family being “a contested institution” and worse. Frankly, I can’t be fagged to contest it. It hardly bothers me one way or the other. But the Republican was very cross, and thought we should be paying attention to more serious news.
Perhaps we should, but one can have enough of wars, suffering, elections and “Burnley look doomed”. I’m not hardcore; I don’t want a 20-page pull-out supplement, or to camp for weeks on the pavement waiting for a glimpse of the infant. But I don’t mind the odd feature about births, marriages, funerals, dramas, palaces, bizarre outfits and rituals. And this baby will apparently bring in £80m extra in tourist revenue. Marvellous.
Fielding is appalled. “There’s something seriously wrong with you,” snaps he.
“You hate bankers, greedy corporations and immense riches, but you have this blind spot for royalty. They’ve murdered, cheated and embezzled their way through history and promote public schools, and you think them acceptable!”
I think that’s a little harsh. No one can choose their relatives and, according to my research, Fielding is in a tiny, snobby minority. Our royal family brings pleasure to millions, even Rosemary, also a committed socialist. “They’re just there, like the Eiffel Tower,” says she in a mellow way. “I think it’s rather fun. They’ve got a stuffy one, a fraudulent one, a vulgar one, a glamorous one; they’ve got tough, weedy, greedy, sensitive, hardworking and lazy ones. They’re Everyman. And my favourite book was The Little Princesses. They wore those slightly itchy, postwar cardigans. How I longed to be one of them.”
Even Olga, ferocious critic of inequality, admires the Queen, who came to an exhibition featuring Olga’s own pots. “Anybody who can do that job for 63 years and still seem interested in all sorts of tedious crap is a real pro,” she says. I rang to report all this to Fielding, but where was he? In the pub, toasting the baby princess. I rest my case.
