The baby is here. The royal baby is here. The baby is new. The baby is fresh, and it is better than you. Look around you. It is better than anyone around you. Gaze across at your co-worker, maybe they are sitting there eating some large portion of non-royal food, a paella perhaps. You think the royal baby would eat a paella? No, it is not a food of the UK - unless it's a pealla that came from Gibraltar. Stare upon them and their paella and know that they are less than a baby that is about 24 hours old.
Your colleague has no royal blood - they may have albums belonging to Brighton-based two-piece rock band Royal Blood, but this is not the same. Tell them this. Tell them that this is not the same at all and that it is tantamount to treason for them to even make such a stupid suggestion. They are lesser beings.
Look at this man who turned up dressed like this, dressed as a town-crier, to announce the birth of the royal baby.
"God save the Queen!" - A town crier announces the birth of a baby boy on the steps of the Lindo Wing #RoyalBaby pic.twitter.com/IHeluWKMAm
— Sky News (@SkyNews) April 23, 2018
This is not his job. He is not employed in any capacity by the palace or the royal family. He has just decided to do this himself, based on his own love for the idea of the existence of another royal baby. Imagine what this man had to do. At some point during the day - perhaps he was in work or at home with his wife - he learned that Kate Middleton was in labour in hospital and he had to turn to his boss or his wife and say, "I'm sorry, but I must go." They must've looked at him, confused at first, as he gathered his things; an impractically large feathered hat;, a bell, and a home-made scroll made from what looks like an A4 sheet gaffer-taped to an off-cut of rug affixed to two lengths of curtain pole. They would've asked him, "Why, why are you doing this? Why are you leaving?" And he said, "Our country needs me. I must announce the good news." Their confusion grew as they said, "I'm sorry what? 'Your country?' Have you been secretly head-hunted by some clandestine government agency?" And he must've said, "No I am doing it for the good of the people, but I must go, there is no time. Kate Middleton is dilating. HARD." And they would've realised, as he walked out the door, settling his home-made hat onto his head, that they have employed/married a lunatic.
Ask your colleague*, ask them this, how many times a clearly deeply deranged an Englishman, in the throes of patriotic fervour, has felt compelled to dress up as some unofficial town-crier to announce their birth? None, that's how many times. That's how lowly and unroyal they are. No one has ever been compelled to go stand outside a hospital dressed like some sort of regency sex criminal and yell their lungs out.
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This is because they are lesser than the royal baby. This baby, it does not have a name. It does not yet have control over its own bladder or anus. It will cover itself in its own urine and faeces and not only is the infant better than you, but so too is its excreta. You are lesser than its corporeal debris.
Look at the fanfare that the introduction of this brand new human to the world has caused. Journalists throughout the right-wing English press have been set aquiver by the news, spasms of pure joyous jingoism wrack their frames- their loyal, monarchy-revering bodies.
Look at The Daily Telegraph almost ogle the pairing. Kate Middleton craddling her newborn. The newborn prince, that she made, with her body. Know yourself, know your limits. You cannot make a prince. You are not able to, you either lack the requisite sexual organs or can only birth boring, unroyal babies. Know that your babies will never be princes, and know that they are therefore, according to The Daily Telegraph, inferior. They may look largely the same as a prince baby, in fact, to any reasonable person they might be literally indistinguishable, but the right-wing press know, they will know that there is no royal blood in your baby.
"Thrice the worry now!" Quips Prince William. He's done it. As the Daily Express say, he's perfectly captured the reality of parent-hood. Perfectly. Long have parents sought to find the right words to articulate what it means to have a third child. And now, in a phrase clearly fit for the everyman, Prince William has succinctly found the mot juste. Thrice the worry now. Thrice. The worry. Now!
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The Sun have said what everyone was thinking but were too afraid to say. The baby deserves to be lauded for its evident keen sense of nationalism. So pure and so royal are its instincts that it knew to be born on both St. George's Day and Shakespeare's birthday. It may not yet have developed powers of cognition and may not have the capacity to comprehend the idea of 'nation' but it is already far more patriotic than you.
The royal baby is here. The royal baby is better than you. It is better than me. It is better than us all. Now, join us, please rise.
