Getting By With Just One Castle

Wearing her diamond-studded crown, Queen Elizabeth II arrived at Parliament in a gleaming horse-drawn carriage to deliver a message of austerity and making do with less in troubled economic times.

Associated Press.

“I took a surplus Corgi to the Our Dumb Chums shelter just this morning.”

My Lords and Members of the House of Commons, I pray that the blessing of Almighty God may rest upon your counsels.

I come before you today in difficult times. The British people have survived great threats to our nation in the past–the Norman Invasion, the Gunpowder Plot, World War II, the collapse of Amy Winehouse’s nose.


But today, we face an even greater threat–the threat of insolvency.


With increasing demands on the exchequer, I am having a lot of trouble balancing my excheque book. I don’t know how my account can be overdrawn when I still have plenty of excheques left.

“Pinky friends” checkbook.

LABOUR MP: Why don’t you get rid of one of your bloody Corgis!

LORD: More shame!

My household budget has been slashed to 7.9 million pounds To this I say–in the immortal words of Wimbledon bad boy John McEnroe–you can’t be serious!

LORDS: Hear, hear!

To add insult to injury, my dingbat Finance Minister says from now on I’m going to be audited–audited! Like I’m some bust-out carpet-cleaning company or sweet-meat shoppe.

LABOUR MP: It’s about time!

May I remind you, you’re not even the largest legislature in the world. You’re behind China, and New Hampshire is gaining on you! That’s right–a little New England state where it’s considered declasse to drive around without a dead deer in the bed of your pickup truck.

LORD: Cool!

So fine–I “get it.” You want me to cut back. Well, I’m doing my part. I wore my “everyday” crown today and I rode over in my horse-drawn carriage–which has over a hundred thousand miles on it, I might add–to demonstrate that I’m serious about this austerity thing.

LABOUR MP: It’s a start!

But, as they say on cable TV–and I only get the basic package, so no Lifetime movies–there’s more. Members of the House of Commons, estimates for the public services will now be laid before you. First, I propose to cut back to 15 realms. I don’t have time to visit them all anyway, so eenie, meenie, minie, mo, Tuvalu has got to go!

LORD: Hear, hear!

Next, we’re going to have a Buckingham Palace garage sale. I’m going to sell a couple of my titles, maybe Defender of the Faith and Lord of Man. I never use them anyway.

LABOUR MP: How much you want for Duke of Normandy?

Finally, I’m going to rent out three of my castles, Windsor, Balmoral and Sandringham House. You know how it is–if you have a vacation house, suddenly everybody wants to be your friend, but nobody strips the bed when they leave.

LABOUR MP: We wouldn’t know.

Balmoral Castle: Available for summer rental, no pets allowed.

During these trying times we must maintain the stiff upper lip for which the British people are justly praised throughout the world, and the dignity commensurate with our position in the world.

In this regard, it has come to my attention that some members of this august body recorded a number of albums under the trade name and style of “Parliament-Funkadelic” during the 1970s, including “Motor Booty Affair” and “Mothership Connection,” which included the top ten single “Give Up the Funk (Tear the Roof of the Sucker).”

Let me be perfectly clear. When my idiot son ascends to the throne and I become Queen Mother, any royalties from “Mothership Connection” will be mine.

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