An Open Letter To The Royal Baby By Nickerless Witchell – Our Royal Correspondent
Dear young and lets face if very royal presence,
I am sat by the bedside reporting on this great moment in history.
A huge crowd of 30/40 people have joined a crowd of nearly one million of the world’s media and are pressed up against the famous fence of Buckingham Palace waiting for the news about your entry into the world. There is an excitement up and down the country and everyone is hooked to this great and rare event of a baby being born whether they know they are or not.
Some cynics say we may have exaggerated this figure of one million slightly and some of the reports from the gates of the Palace have seen bemused tourists scratching their heads when asked about this huge crowd but then they are foreign and what do they know about such matters?
So little fellow, as I sit here fawning, I can see your noble head as it leaves the royal dispatch box. It already has a halo around it and tiny crown as you enter the world like no other human being on the planet.
You let out a royal scream as you enter your world and instantly are surrounded by your humble servants of which I am one. I used to be a real journalist you know but in my new role as the royal watcher with the baby talking voice I feel more comfortable.
To be sat by this bed is an honour and to be virtually the first person in the universe to welcome this deity amongst us is quite something. There is nothing strange about a society that we pretend is so fascinated by a baby. It’s like the Dali Lama without the philosophy and the religious aura; it’s almost like Christ himself arriving in the manger or something…
It’s one of the great moments in British history. A dawning of a new age. A moment the whole world has been waiting for. This evening a baby has been born in London- it is an event like no other, a real live baby born to a hard working young couple. The husband, a real live young prince had to take a day off work to be at his wife’s side- that’s a really modern thing to do.
The hard working prince is a knight in shining armor, a Sir Galahad of these modern times, who arrived at a canter on his shining white steed and who flies helicopters all the time and is certainly not a scrounger can ill afford the down time but it’s very rare for a baby to be born in our society so he joined me by the bedside as I reported on this great moment.
Little Princeling! you are a rarity- born into a brave new era and already humbly accepting your role as a public servant and the job of ‘king’ where you command a vast and never ending empire were the sun never sets.
You will be a brave warrior like your father or an intellectual like Prince Andrew or maybe just a bit odd like old Prince Charles- the man who would be king.
The BBC rolling news will fill itself up with endless non stories about a baby and carefully constructed camera shots to make 40 people look like a crowd. We may not know the name, although Prince Morrissey has a certain ring to it. But what we do know that this most brilliant of babies will be educated at Eton and get a top honours from Oxbridge
You will have the ears and those strong robust teeth of the Saxe Cobergs, I mean the Windsor’s- that most British of German families and you will rule over us, your mere and humble subjects with a benevolence and generosity that no one has ever seen before or something…