“All: I swear that I will pay true allegiance to Your Majesty, and to your heirs and successors according to law. So help me God.”
It will be followed by the playing of a fanfare.
The Archbishop of Canterbury will then proclaim “God Save The King”, with all asked to respond: “God Save King Charles. Long live King Charles. May the King live for ever.”
As we know, those prayers are remarkably effective - the QE2 damn nearly lived forever, so maybe the republicans amongst us should just whisper the last sentence, so God can't hear that bit.
|Notice the handshake between Bishop Balls and Brian|
The Inquiry said that Bishop Peter Ball, a friend of the Prince of Wales, who was jailed for 32 months in 2015 for sex abuse against boys carried out over three decades, had been allowed to continue unchecked after being first caught in 1993 because of the liberality of a former Archbishop of Canterbury, Lord Carey, who refused to believe the allegations against Ball or acknowledge the seriousness of them, regardless of evidence. The Inquiry said that Carey was outspoken in his support of the bishop, adding: 'He seemingly wanted the whole business to go away.'
|The Heads of the Anglican and the Roman Church, enjoying an ecumenical laugh together|
Since we are preparing to celebrate the coronation of King Charles III on Saturday, it is timely to revisit The Princes and The Paedos, by mr ishmael:
Prince JugEars manages to evade any scrutiny whatsoever about his lengthy personal relationship with the late Sir Jimmy Savile. This excuse for a man who would be king can count himself lucky he’s not in the Tower or at the very least in the crosshairs of Operation Yewtree’s investigation into Savile-related crimes. The press should be in full, hot pursuit.
His Royal Highness, Brian (his ponce fag courtiers will pronounce, as though it were true) gives a great deal of his time to charity and meets, therefore, many individuals from all walks of life; he simply cannot be expected to investigate the backgrounds of all of them. Shut up, therefore, don’t be impertinent, remember your place and go away.
Oh, Sir Jimmy, you are almost as funny as the Goons, did one tell you that one can do a rather good impersonation of Seagoon, oneself? It’s like that Ishmael chappie says, there really is no business like show-business. Unless it’s the royalty business. Or are they much the same?
It wasn’t just so-called charity meetings, however, which brought Brian and Jimmy together. Brian absolutely doted on him - enough reason, right there, for him to be barred from the throne - allowing him unprecedented access to both Highgrove and Clarence House, where it appears that Savile wandered in and out at will, molesting staff, slobbering over them*, no doubt to the Prince’s great amusement. Brian had Savile sit in on interviews conducted to select courtier-ponces and secretary-slags, allowing him the final word on who was to be, whatever it is called, Principal Private Secretary to his Highness, some such propaganda post. Savile’s opinion was canvassed by Brian on NHS reform; seriously. Savile, lest we need reminding, was a semi-literate buffoon, patently a bully and clearly a man of - at the very least - questionable character. Brian, nevertheless, permitted Savile to edit and amend royal speeches and correspondence; maybe he had a hand in the infamous Spider Letters, in that scandal of royal meddling, the story of which the PBC has so bravely buried, at Brian’s insistence, an odious secrecy in which successive Attorneys General have colluded. Brian, quite improperly, has been lobbying ministers to change their policies and now that the Guardian is trying to see the relevant letters it has been told that the half-wit’s princely meddling is a matter of national security and to fuck off.
*“Dickie Arbiter, who handled media relations for the Prince and Princess of Wales while spokesman for the Queen between 1988 and 2000, said the suspected paedophile TV presenter used to rub his lips up the arms of Prince Charles's young female assistants as a greeting.”
We do not know if Savile brought his erudition or constitutional expertise to the Spider Letters but considering his bizarre ubiquity amongst monarchs and prime ministers it wouldn't be surprising if he had. Nonce-protector General, Margaret Thatcher, MP, PC, MA (Oxon) was so utterly bewitched by Savile that she lobbied four years in succession for his eventual knighthood
One must wonder which areas of public policy benefited from Sir Jimmy's wise scrutiny, either personally or as amanuensis to the dunderhead Prince of Wales. Savile often shrugged-off questions about his sexuality with threats of friends in high places, as well as low. They don't come much higher than the residents of Downing Street and the palaces.
|All engines, full ahead-astern|
|Prince of Wales to engine room: maximum thingies, if you please, Mr. Chief Engineer. Look Lively.|
ran the fucking thing aground.
The records show nothing of this, instead, First Lieutenant JugEars is compared favourably to Admiral Horatio Nelson, but I remember it well. In 1995, as Prince Biggles, the fucking nincompoop, was landing a plane of the Queen's Flight in the Hebrides, he royally crashed it. The board of enquiry ruled that the official pilot, a common serviceman, and not Brian - who was actually flying the fucking thing - was to blame.
|I own these fucking plane thingies, son, or I will|
Prince PilotError is now a Marshal of the Royal Air Force.
Best of all, if you can call anything about the royals best, Savile was appointed by Brian to ensure that in the days around her wedding to Andrew, the bride-to-be, Sloane-slapper Sarah Ferguson, behaved herself so as not to embarrass the throne, as if such a thing was possible, greedy, grubby, cowardly fucking slags that they are. That’s right, it is a matter of record; Savile, protecting the reputation of the House of Windsor. At the request of the heir to the throne, who appointed his kingdom's biggest sex criminal to keep things proper, tickety-boo, and above board.
|Mr and Mrs Battenberg-Slag|
poor, mad Diana Spencer, driven her from her wits,
such few as she possessed,
then selected the bachelor nonce, Savile,
as her personal marriage guidance counsellor
please register an account first, at lulu.com. This is advisable because otherwise paypal seems to think it's ok to charge in dollars, and they then apply their own conversion rate, which might put the price up slightly for a UK buyer. Once the new account is set up, follow one of the links below (to either paperback or hardback) or type "Ishmael’s Blues" into the Lulu Bookstore search box. Click on the “show explicit content” tab, give the age verification box a date of birth such as 1 January 1960, and proceed.
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Link for Paperback : https://tinyurl.com/3jurrzux
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