THE PRINCE’S NEW CLOTHES
It was the Day of the Annual Royal Processional, when the Royal Family, Nobility & other assorted representatives of the “Great & the Good” would assemble and parade themselves in all their regal finery before the assembled masses lining the streets.
This ostentatious display of Upper-class Privilege and ostentatious Wealth was an Event much looked forward to by the lower classes, giving them, as it did, the opportunity to glimpse the fabulous Finery worn by their Betters, and later broken biscuits would be distributed from the steps of the Church. Yes, it was a welcome reprise for the lower classes from their usual tawdry existence.
Anticipation ran especially high this year, for word had got around that Prince Andrew would be wearing the richest apparel ever worn. The dashing Prince was always a Fashion Showpony and it was said that this year he had set the Royal tailor with the task of producing the finest clothes ever worn. No expense had been spared, it was said, to source the costly materials needed for such a Display. Rumour & Surmise spread like Syphillis amongst the crowd, who stood speculating on the costly display of velvets, jewels, furs & military braid in which the noble Prince would be attired.
At last the trumpets sounded, the palace gates swung open and the Royal Procession began.
Truly it was a gorgeous Spectacle! Each Noble, Dignatory or Diplomat who emerged was clad in the most splended raiment imaginable! From the Queen in her carraige so covered with Gold that the eight straining oxen could scarce move it forward faster than a crawl, to the Lord Mayor, so laden with his Chains of Office that he required the aid of two strapping, young negro boys to help him bear the weight.
Then the great moment finally arrived and the handsome Prince Andrew made his appearance to the wonder & delight of the crowd. And their Wonder & Delight was great indeed, for it soon became apparent that the Prince’s Ensemble this year was composed entirely of naught but the finest, most sheer of materials. Indeed, their gauzy insubstantiality reached degrees of Translucency that were almost shading into Transperancy, all of which tended to accentuate and flatter the Prince’s splendid physique. Or so wrote the Royal Fashion Columnists after the Event, and I couldn’t put it better myself.
With a retinue of Lapdogs, Lackeys & Sychophants trailing behind him like a Comet’s tail, he strode proudly forth, proud as a strutting peacock & bearing before him the Royal Sceptre.
I mean.. that was the Royal Sceptre wasn’t it,
throbbing, swollen & red
that he clutched in both hands
and waved like a Conductors baton from side to side.
Or was the Prince claiming the traditional Royal prerogative to berecognised as a Member of Parliament in good standing?
The Crowd was uncertain and murmured amongst themselves.
But Lo! Of a sudden a small child ( some filthy, nameless ragamuffin of the streets) did cry aloud;
*
“Oi! That Toff aint got no clothes on! I can see his Tadger ‘angin’ out!”
*
The crowd gasped then and fell silent,
and her Father did quickly clout her about the ear’ole
for being a mouthy little git what didn’t know better than to shut her Gob in the presence of Them’s what’s her Betters,
beggin’ yer Highness’s Pardon, and tugged at his greasy forelock as he clumsily bobbed his head up and down in a sickening display of Lower Class subservience.
But Lo! (again) the Prince cried out,
“Strike not the Child!!”
And a murmur of Wonder ran through the crowd at the Prince’s Compassion. Yes, surely it was with Compassion that the Princes Royal Member was so swollen! Indeed, so great was the Princes’ Compassion that no human body could contain it all and thus some must trickle forth from the head and run down the stalk like a dissolving pearl.
Then the kindly Prince Andrew spoke again,
“Bring the Child unto me!”
And putting thoughts of Gilles de Rais roughly aside the father hastened to obey.
“I shall Groom this Child myself,”
Prince Andrew declared magnanimously,
“she shall live in the Palace henceforth and attend me.
It is a marvellous opportunity for her, she’ll meet lots of Important People. You must be very grateful, here’s Five Quid for your trouble.”
Saying no more he waddled off, trailing his Comet’s tail of Sychophants, Lackeys & Lickspittles behind him & leaving the grateful father to grovel for the handful of coins scattered in the gutter as the Crowd cheered at this magnanimous display of Nobleese Oblige.
As for the Girl herself, escorted by two bewigged & frog-coated flunkeys,
she just shrugged and accepted her Situation philosophically.
After all, back home she shared a bed with five brothers and two sisters. It was nothing new to her.
” Ah well,” she thought to herself,
“at least ‘is Majesty has had a barff.”
***
***
The Reverend Hellfire is..
(Complete in less than 100 words)
***
Posted in Uncategorized
Tags: archtypes, humour, Prince Andrew, royal perverts, satire, stories, the emperors new clothes
Reverend Hellfire's Sunday Sermon 