Friday, November 14, 2008

The Man Who Won't Be King.


Today is the 60th birthday of Chuckie Saxe-Coburg, who is better known by his Secret Identity: Charles Windsor, Prince of Whales. Chuck and I are old friends. In fact, for all I know, he may even be one of my ex-husbands, although I've never heard anyone say he was gay, despite his claim to be English. He's really German, which may explain it. Does anyone keep track of his marriages?

Prince Chuck and I bonded deeply because we share something profound. We have both spent most of our lives waiting for our mothers to die. I know I spent all my life looking forward to my mother's death with the sort of excited, joyous anticipation with which a child looks forward to Christmas. I was lucky; sometime during World War II, my mother finally had the good taste to die.(Death was all the rage during World War II. Simply everyone was doing it. Weirdest fad of all time, even weirder than the popularity of Hula hoops and the music of Yanni.)

Chuckie's mother however, is a disagreeable old queen who refuses to die. Hmmm. Maybe I was married to her! An awful lot of my husbands were disagreeable old queens. But are they still my ex-husbands, now that The Mormon Church has outlawed Gay Marriages in California, that is, unless the gays are marrying two or three other people? The Mormons are determined to stop this monogamy thing in its tracks, and return America to decent Traditional Plural Marriage.

You see, Chuck's chosen profession is King of England, and he can't be King until his mother dies. And his Mother's Mother, The Queen Mother (sounds like my first mother-in-law) lived to be 712. Charles is 60, and he's still waiting to get his career started. Talk about failure to launch!

Which is not to say that Charles's life has been devoid of honor. Here is the highlight of his life so far: when he was Royally Presented at Court to Dame Edna and her bridesmaid and constant travelling companion, Madge Allsop. Did Charles abuse his glamour to take sexual advantage of Madge, and let her handle The Crown Jewels? Well, when I asked Madge where the Tower of London was, she pointed to Chuck's pants. (The correct answer is "London.") Besides, why else would he have later taken a fancy to Camilla Parker-Bowles, who makes Madge look like a glamourpuss?


Looking at Chuck now, you'd be hard pressed to remember the adorable little boy the whole world fell in love with back around the time Little Dougie was born, The Little Prince. Unlike Antoine St. Exupery's Little Prince, who lived all alone on Asteroid B-612, the real Prince Chuck was far more isolated. Basically, as he complained to the press about in later years, he mostly saw his warmth-free parents at formal photo opportunities.




It can't have been easy, growing up in a goldfish bowl: his mother a cold fish German relative of Kaiser Wilhelm, the man who made war on his cousin's adopted country back in 1914, and also made me his Love Slave (As told in detail in Chapter 8, I Lick The Kaiser!, of my award-adjacent autobiography My Lush Life.), his father a Greek sailor and boob given to Deep Throating his own foot to a degree that would shame even Soon-To-Be-Ex-Faux-President Bush. Prince Phillip, when speaking publicly, can get his foot into his mouth all the way to the knee! What a happy family in Buckingham Palace and Windsor Castle, like The Addams Family with posh accents. In America, a man's home is his castle. In Britain, a man's home is The National Trust.


Chuck was married to a real Princess (What a coincidence!), named Lady Di, which she did, but not before giving birth to two sons, both of whom are far more attractive than Dad ever was. Then, tiring of being married to a beautiful woman, Chuck took his romantic life in an entirely different direction, and married Camilla Parker-Bowles, a woman less attractive than Buddy Hackett. (She's not as funny either.)It's amazing what waiting 60 years to get your career started can do to you. Just ask Little Dougie. He's only two years younger than Chuck, and his career still hasn't gone anywhere either. Dougie's mother has died, but it hasn't helped.


In any event, Chuckie's mother, Her Majesty Queen Helen Elizabeth Mirrin, was delighted by her new daughter-in-law, much in the same way that Hilary was delighted by the nomination going to Barack O'Bama, blessings and peace be upon him.


I read where Chuck sleeps in the nude. Poor Camilla. And he's a fan of the Harry Potter books and movies, which may explain why he keeps pointing symphony conductor batons at Queen Helen and shouting "Avada Kedavra!", only to learn that it doesn't work without CGI. He used to read a lot of Dickens, but he kept saying things like "Oliver Twist you lucky bastard!" Chuckie's been stuck with Great Expectations a long time now.



Living with a queen can be difficult, believe me, I know, and waiting for a stubborn old Mother to die is no picnic either; just ask our nearly-ex-faux-president. Babs Bush, who is every bit as unpleasant and self-entitled as Queen Elizabeth Mirrin, is bionic, and can't die. As Igor once said to Basil Rathbone in Son of Frankenstein: "He can not be killed! Can not die! Your father made him live for alvays!"



You know what The British Royal Family needs? Term limits! We're about to be rid of Dubya and acquire President O'Bama, blessings and peace be upon him, because Dubya can't be president anymore! Sadly for Prince Chuckie, Queen Liz is like evil, nasty old Chief Justice Antonin Scalia; The Constitution make him live for alvays!


Antonin Scalia staying in office for as long as Queen Liz; that's scarier than any Frankenstein movie ever made!



Cheers darlings. And Happy Birthday Prince Chuckie.

4 comments:

Hermite said...

Look like he might be, after all.
http://tinyurl.com/6x9o7t
Queen Elizabeth To Step Down From The Throne To Allow Son Prince Charles To Lead

Just wanted to say, been a fan since you were Ms. Richmond. I was in St. Paul then. I was happy to find this site thru Ken Levine.

Cheers, dahling!

Tallulah Morehead said...

If I've learned anything, it's never trust a promise from a Queen. She's been torturing him with that "Maybe I'll step down" crap for decades. I also heard that Prince Charles is "Thinking of retiring," odd given that he hasn't started his primary job yet.

What I have not learned is what you are talking about as regards my having been a "Ms Richmond." I have never been a Ms Richmond, whoever that is. You were "In St. Paul then". When? Really darling, I don't know what the hell you mean. I have never been anyone but Tallulah Morehead of Hollywood, California, and a crony of Little Dougie, himself a Los Angeles native who has never even set foot in Minnesota in his whole sad life. Possibly you have me confused with someone else. You certainly have me confused.

But cheers anyway, and thanks for posting.

hermite said...

Oops, my mistake. I hadn't had my breakfast margarita when I wrote that so my head wasn't quite together yet. I meant Miss Richfield 1981, who had a column in a local paper. Delightfully funny stuff.

Since I'm here, I also wanted to thank you for the gorgeous studly hunk pic this month. Hoping for a better world for us all.

Tallulah Morehead said...

Ah, my darling Miss Richfield 1981. Well at least I now know who you are referring to. I adore Miss Richfield 1981, who I was happy to present with a signed copy of my autobiography when we met through mutual friends here in Hollywood several years ago, just as she presented me with a copy of her CD. She has a wonderful Christmas DVD out, titled FALL ON YOUR KNEES, available through Amazon.com

But I am not her, and Little Dougie is not Russ King, Miss Richfield's Secret Idemtity. Miss Richfield 1981 is, in fact, still Miss Richfield 1981, and tours extensively, doing her hysterically funny live stage shows.

You can catch up on her current activities at her own website:
http://www.missrichfield.com/

But again, I emphasize that I am not her. For one thing I am considerably older than she is, and Dougie has more than a few years on Russ King. Nor can I play the saw nor sing while standing on my head, both staples of Miss Richfield's shows.

Cheers darling.