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September 9, 2022
This photograph is made available for charities and not-for-profit organisations who wish to use a picture to mark the 90th birthday of Queen Elizabeth II. It may not be used for merchandising or any commercial publication, and the logo in the bottom left of the picture must not be removed or obscured. The picture should be credited: PRESS ASSOCIATION / Danny Lawson.

IT FELT far more like the death of monarchy than the death of a monarch.

Queen Elizabeth the Second WAS and I suspect always WILL be monarchy for me because I have no other comparison in all my years of life. She had been Queen for eight years when I was born. She brought lived wartime experience of sheltering under a barrage of bombs so seemed less privileged and detached, bringing natural authority, command and deep respect like a national grandmother we all wanted to visit.

A part of me felt that that authority, command and deep respect had died with her in Balmoral yesterday.

Successive generations, both within and without the Royal Family, are less aware of our perilous vulnerability best exemplified in the German bombing campaign of World War Two when our relatively small island state held out against so many odds so may not be so needful nor respectful of that type of authority, command and deep respect.

Her successors strike me as decidedly less genuinely well-endowed in these attributes and far less naturally inclined to keep their counsel, strict political impartiality and stoical dignified silence in the way that wartime generation – who, crucially, genuinely believed that careless talk could cost lives – really naturally did simply because they genuinely believed they had to.

The Queen’s true majesty, therefore, came in what she did not say rather than in what she did.

That iron-strong restraint and discipline was locked into my monarch from early on. Faith – in every sense of the word – was therefore practiced by her generation rather than preached from new technological online pulpits so was never lost in a furiously flickering blizzard of vicious, vengeful, vicarious, venting.

The thought of a lean, green, mean too frequently opinionated King Charles the Third on our pound notes and stamps addressing us at moments of crisis and on Christmas Day, however, prompts a chilled reaction and the thought of Camilla as our Queen prompts a rather different though also quite visceral one in me.

A slimmed-down monarchy having finally fully jettisoned wantonly wasteful warriors Andrew and Harry with less pomp and circumstance and fewer palaces and flunkeys in this post-truth anti-deferential age filled to breaking point with angry symbols of arrogant individualism warmly welcomed by political extremists and opportunists will struggle to maintain its dignity and crucial independence and, I suspect, will be fighting most to establish relevance to the fast-growing furious.

I suspect that Charles will not have a full Coronation so may not be properly crowned.

The Queen’s Coronation in 1953 was an archetypally white Christian service celebrating the last remnants of formidable British Empire while elevating the assorted Germanic crowned heads of Europe with their inherited wealth, might and majesty, Church of England sanctity and supremacy over other religions, and an outward looking and still expanding conventional and conjoined United Kingdom with its people in all four corners much more as one and so naturally in harmony.

Subjects, therefore, were largely white, conventional and conjoined Christian unionists with a vested interest in linking together to expand and enlarge happily and profitably a much more truly United Kingdom.

None of those things currently exist so King Charles, unlike his mother, will not be head of a United Kingdom but a divided and furiously fraught one struggling to stay relevant and truly appropriate.

And… if to make my point for me, a footballer called Trevor Sinclair (no, me neither) steams in with a horrendously badly timed head-high tackle (yes, you guessed it, another of that permanently entitled and wantonly enriched group of suddenly politicised cerebrally challenged gilded clan of foul play divers and con artists – today’s new royal family but without the breeding, brains or basic belief) to earn himself a red card.

“Racism” was never “outlawed” because “racism” was and remains healthy respect and preference for similar others to some people regardless of colour and not what offensive Sinclair and his ilk have tried to turn it into, which is blackwashing to redress historical wrongs.

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