The Modern-Minded Monarch
Last month, a waiting world rejoiced as Her Majesty the Queen joined Flickr.
I'd like to imagine her sitting down with a techno-flunky to select her choice of photographs: "This is me opening Parliament in the Bahamas. And this is Phillip opening a sewage pump station in Coventry. Oh, and there's that horrid little man, Berlusconi trying to look down my dress."
Well, perhaps not. But it got me thinking, and this is the result (be warned, it goes on a bit).
Her Majesty was not amused
She felt abased, abashed, abused
And was she angry? Oh yes, very.
Thanks to her new secretary
Peregrine Pratt, just out of school
Was trying to teach her how to rule.
And now he tried to intimate
That the Sovereign was out of date:
“I must insist, it's your obligation
To keep up with your changing nation.
We need a modern monarchy,
In touch with new technology.”
He told her if she didn't listen
She'd be an anachronism.
“Social networking is a must
Or you’re going to bite the dust.”
“Everyone’s doing it, I think you’ll find
You can’t afford to be left behind
Get in touch, get inspired
Get off your throne, woman, and get wired!”
Her Majesty listened in stony silence
Her head was filled with thoughts of violence
He’d never know how close he'd been
To getting crowned by the Queen.
Her demeanour became more rattled
As on and on and on he prattled
Bandying words like “blogs” and “tweeting”
How she longed to end this meeting.
"A blog could really make your name,
Could give you your fifteen minutes of fame."
Her Majesty looked on, forlorn
(She'd been famous since the day she was born).
She felt aghast, annoyed, aggrieved
He didn’t know all she'd achieved.
He seemed to treat with levity,
Her considerable longevity.
She'd seen Beckham win and Henman lose,
Twelve prime ministers, eleven Dr Who's.
She'd outlasted Punk and New Romancing
And John Sargent on Strictly Come Dancing.
Her expression grew more cut-throat,
(Like the one you see on a five pound note).
But he ignored the Sovereign's frown
And slowly, but surely, wore her down.
And so Her Majesty the Queen
Sat down at a computer screen.
Without enthusiasm or much grace
She launched herself into cyberspace.
The worldwide web's newest resident’s
First cybersteps were hesitant.
But before too long, she was off and running
The pace she set nothing short of stunning.
Browsing wikis, blogs and tweets,
Googlemapping through virtual streets.
And she whooped with delight when she found
A website for "The Horse and Hound".
But her searches were not confined
To close encounters of the equestrian kind.
Nothing was missed by the Queen.
No blog unread, no site unseen.
By day she spent her time downloading
By night she learned computer coding.
To tweet, to tag, to blog to surf
She just couldn’t get enough.
Soon her digital addiction
Became a serious affliction.
And in a very little time
She was living her whole life online.
At state banquets, guests had to wait as
Her Majesty checked her Facebook status
Official visits were off, unless
She was guaranteed wi-fi access.
During each official walkabout
Internet cafés were sought out.
And over croissants and café latte
She tweeted with the twitterati.
Each visiting dignitary
Was stunned by her new vocabulary.
She asked the President of the Congo:
"Can I see your broadband dongle?"
She set a blog up of her own
And pretty soon “The View from the Throne”
Became required reading for one and all
From a lady called Gaga to an octopus called Paul.
With this her popularity soared
And she was even more adored.
She even won, on one occasion
The Queen’s Award for Innovation.
So, was she happy? oh yes very,
Not so, her secretary.
In fact, quite to the contrary
He was not a very merry Perry.
The more he pondered her success
The more he liked her less and less.
He knew he’d made a mighty blunder
She was stealing all his thunder.
He thought that he deserved the praise
For the royal conquest of cyberspace.
But while Her Majesty was zealous
Peregrine was insanely jealous.
He knew exactly what to do
And so, he planned a palace coup.
He’d confront and she’d recoil
And he would win the battle royal.
He saw it like this in his mind
But that’s not how it happened (I think you’ll find).
At a meeting in the Palace
The poisonous Perry unleashed his malice.
He proceeded to tell the Queen
That she’d become a has-been.
He made no attempt at subtle phrasing
But let her have it, all guns blazing.
“This really has gone too far”
Bleated Her Majesty’s bête noir.
“I must tell you, enough is enough!
You’re far too old for this kind of stuff!”
“You’ve confirmed my greatest fears
That a woman of your extended years
Can’t cope with new technology
So just LOG OFF! Your Majesty.
Ostensibly serene and gentle,
Inside, the Queen was going mental.
She listed in her head this creature's
Very many punchable features.
Restraining the urge to Glasgow kiss him
She smiled sweetly and dismissed him
For in her mind the ground was laid:
The Queen would reign on his parade.
Using her new-found knowledge fount
She raided Perry’s bank account
And she didn’t find it very hard
To replicate his credit card.
Faster than you could say “monarchy”
She made off with his identity.
Throughout the night, hour after hour
She exercised his spending power.
Her search was wide, her scope extensive
Her sights were high, her demands expensive
Her purchases were many and various,
From a Fabergé egg to a Stradivarius.
From jumbo jets to luxury yachts,
She bought lots and lots and lots (and lots).
The world’s most valuable postage stamp
Florence Nightingale’s original lamp.
Six tonnes of Icelandic lava
Eight prostitutes from Bratislava.
Ten antique vases (that looked quite hideous)
Some very, very dodgy videos.
The original cube by Rubik,
The Dominican Republic.
She enrolled his future sons at Eton
Bought gold-plated luggage from Louis Vuitton.
The Wright Brothers’ first glider,
The Large Hadron Collider.
A hundred-weight of gold umbrellas
The world’s stockpile of vuvuzelas.
The Taj Mahal, The Royal Mail,
Simon Cowell, the Holy Grail
On an on and on she went,
Until her passions (and his funds) were spent.
Finally, with her last transaction
She sat back with satisfaction
She knew her behaviour was illegal
And strictly speaking, less than regal.
But she’d been the victim of his attack
And emphatically had got him back
She’d not forgotten he’d called her “old”.
And revenge (like salad) is best served cold.
By now, her secretary’s economic
State was truly chronic
Thanks to Her Majesty the Queen
Peregrine Pratt didn’t have a bean.
He remained oblivious until
The arrival of the first bill
At first he thought it was a joke
(He didn’t yet know that he was broke).
With mounting worry he watched as more
And more supplies piled at his door:
A yacht, a jet, a Channel Ferry
Tony Blair and Halle Berry.
He beheld in disbelief
A bill for the Great Barrier Reef
“I don't remember this!” he stuttered
“Just sign for it”, the postman muttered.
To exacerbate his situation
He was carted off to the police station
“WOE IS ME! OH MY GAWD!”,
He cried, when charged with fraud.
In custody, he thought long and hard
Before coming up with his trump card
“I know how I can make this stop
I’ll take my case right to the top.”
And so, in court, he asked the Queen
To confirm that he was squeaky clean
To her mercy he appealed.
“Please help me!” the little pleader squealed
Smiling sweetly at what he’d said,
The Queen responded: "Off with his head!"
He was lucky to escape execution
But she would have her retribution
Never again would Perry see her
From his permanent posting in North Korea.
A crueller fate than it might seem
(in Pyongyang no-one can hear you scream).
There's a message in this little fable
Which you should pass on, (if you’re still able).
The story’s moral can be plainly seen:
Don’t mess with a modern-minded Queen.