Attention, everyone, my parents, Mr. and Mrs. William Wales, are at it again! “What are they doing now,” you ask, possibly while rolling your eyes? The answer is, “Trying to look like all of you.”
I, Prince George Alexander Louis, third in line to the throne, cannot yet speak, but I know what is going on, and let me tell you, people, it ain’t pretty, to use an American colloquialism. My mother and father, Kate Middleton and Prince William to the rest of the world, are desperate to look like all of you. You have no idea the ridiculous antics.
In private, they role play with accents. Some days they speak cockney while pretending their impeccable designer wardrobe is in need of repair and they act as if they are ironing and sewing patches on things. Other times, they pretend they are American, and when they have had a few cocktails, they act like they are the Beverly Hillbillies, call our swimming pool a ‘cement pond’ while watching Here Comes Honey Boo Boo, and trying to make an alleged food item called “sketti.” Honestly, I just want to cry, and because I am a baby, I do. They summon the governess to try and soothe me, but she cannot, so I just wail and wail hoping someone will decipher my cries and send me to live with some other royal family, perhaps the one in Sweden. They seem pretty low-key and are rarely in the press.
Anyway, the latest brouhaha is in regards to my upcoming christening. My mother and father are pretty spoiled, Mother especially, and they want to exclude my great aunts and uncles from the guest list because Mother has to curtsy to them, but they do not have to curtsey to her, or some such rot. In the end, Mother is a commoner, not blood royalty like my relatives and I, so of course she should curtsey, even to me, but she never does because I am her son so she thinks it unnecessary.
The entire family has their royal knickers in a twist because of a select few being excluded from the party, but publicly everyone is saying there is no rift, everything is fine, my relations are happy, and my aunts and uncles have other things to attend that day. My Aunt Anne has an engagement, my Aunt Sophie has an engagement, and my uncles Edward and Andrew are being typically male (ie: smart) about the fracas and keeping their gobs shut. Truth be told, Aunt Anne, Aunt Sophie, and Mother find each other detestable (I have overheard them say Mother reeks of ‘middle class’) and they do not get on well at all, which is the real reason Mother told Father that Aunt Anne and Aunt Sophie were not to be invited, and Father does everything Mother tells him to do.
The baptism is going to be held at this ancient building that King Henry VIII built called the Chapel Royal in St. James’ Palace. Some call it beautiful but it is so old if more than one person at a time were to sneeze while inside, it would collapse. Most of the royal buildings are this way (the curtains inside Buckingham Palace have moth holes), but no one knows because the public is only allowed to see certain areas.
At any rate, the royal baptism will take place in this tiny building that Mother talked Father into utilizing just so she would have an excuse to have a short guest list. Father liked the idea of using the chapel because it felt private, therefore, normal, whatever that means. I think he means, ‘common’. He says he wants to be able to do what most of the world does and not have press cameras capture his every waking moment. I am in agreement with his sentiment, but the notion of being common and normal simply cannot happen since we are neither. The outfit my stylist chose for me today cost more than most Americans earn in a month, but I digress. Mostly, I just wanted to let everyone know Mother and Father are not only trying to aim for normalcy again, but they will keep trying, they will continue failing, and I will live a life of perpetual shame because of it.
Sincerely,
HRH Prince George of Cambridge
