aff queen and i (4)
The gleaming black Jaguar, sleek and opulent and very classy, rolled along South Kildare's verdurous country roads.
In the back seat the Queen and Prince Philip sat in regal companionability.
"Remember, Philip..." began the Queen at one point.
"I won't say a word," interrupted Prince Philip. "I'll just read my newspaper the whole time."
They held hands tenderly and resumed their silence.
The car swung from verdurous realms into ye idyllic olde worlde surrounds of the Irish country hamlet of Kilcullen.
For once the massive police presence which had all but stifled every ounce of spontaneity and joy from the Queen's visit to Ireland, was not so intense.
Crowds of people at the roadside cheered.
The Queen waved.
It was the nearest the cops would let her get to a traditional Irish welcome.
The entourage was not expected to stop in Kilcullen.
Imagine the surprise of her Brit secret service chauffeur when the Queen barked authoritively: "Pull in here Sam."
The Brit secret service are tough but they know when not to ask questions.
The driver swung the car smoothly to rest at the kerb on Kilcullen hill.
Without a word the Queen and Prince Philip disembarked and toddled purposefully arm in arm up the tree lined avenue to the Chateau de Healy.
"I've seen enough parvenus and atheists to last me a life time," murmured the Queen. "It's time we met a real Irish man."
Philip who had been prepared for the eventuality, smiled whimsically.
Moments later the two were seated in the atrium at the Chateau sipping Rooibush tea.
Rooibush tea is on tap at the chateau since my feminist cousin Pauline started running her farm in Africa at the foot of the Ngong Hills.
(Started managing a health food store in Kicullen, surely? - Ed note.)
The Queen of England smiled fondly at the mighty Heelers.
"I miss Paddy Pup," she said softly.
Philip sat in an armchair on his best behaviour.
"Oh Heelers," said the Queen, "you wouldn't believe the oikes they've foisted on me."
"I do believe it," I told her.
"That horrible MacAleese woman," went on the Queen, "and her dreadful husband. And then that fellow who looks like Lenin."
"You mean Ruairi Quinn."
"That's the one. The fat little bollix. The one who wants to take over all your Catholic schools and replace them with Marxist academies."
"You're singing my song, Your Majesty."
"How is he going to pay for them.,Heelers, that's what I want to know. Presumably he'll just borrow the money from his corrupt gangster brother Lochlainn and his collapsed defunct bankrupt corrupt gangster shell company Allied Irish Banks."
"Testify, Ma'am, testify!" I applauded.
Behind us Prince Philip had unfolded his newspaper and opened it.
Aff Queen and I turned and stared in horror.
Prince Philip was reading a Leinster Leader.
The Queen gently lowered her head into her hands.
"Oh Philip," she murmured more in sadness than in anger, "you've done it again."
In the back seat the Queen and Prince Philip sat in regal companionability.
"Remember, Philip..." began the Queen at one point.
"I won't say a word," interrupted Prince Philip. "I'll just read my newspaper the whole time."
They held hands tenderly and resumed their silence.
The car swung from verdurous realms into ye idyllic olde worlde surrounds of the Irish country hamlet of Kilcullen.
For once the massive police presence which had all but stifled every ounce of spontaneity and joy from the Queen's visit to Ireland, was not so intense.
Crowds of people at the roadside cheered.
The Queen waved.
It was the nearest the cops would let her get to a traditional Irish welcome.
The entourage was not expected to stop in Kilcullen.
Imagine the surprise of her Brit secret service chauffeur when the Queen barked authoritively: "Pull in here Sam."
The Brit secret service are tough but they know when not to ask questions.
The driver swung the car smoothly to rest at the kerb on Kilcullen hill.
Without a word the Queen and Prince Philip disembarked and toddled purposefully arm in arm up the tree lined avenue to the Chateau de Healy.
"I've seen enough parvenus and atheists to last me a life time," murmured the Queen. "It's time we met a real Irish man."
Philip who had been prepared for the eventuality, smiled whimsically.
Moments later the two were seated in the atrium at the Chateau sipping Rooibush tea.
Rooibush tea is on tap at the chateau since my feminist cousin Pauline started running her farm in Africa at the foot of the Ngong Hills.
(Started managing a health food store in Kicullen, surely? - Ed note.)
The Queen of England smiled fondly at the mighty Heelers.
"I miss Paddy Pup," she said softly.
Philip sat in an armchair on his best behaviour.
"Oh Heelers," said the Queen, "you wouldn't believe the oikes they've foisted on me."
"I do believe it," I told her.
"That horrible MacAleese woman," went on the Queen, "and her dreadful husband. And then that fellow who looks like Lenin."
"You mean Ruairi Quinn."
"That's the one. The fat little bollix. The one who wants to take over all your Catholic schools and replace them with Marxist academies."
"You're singing my song, Your Majesty."
"How is he going to pay for them.,Heelers, that's what I want to know. Presumably he'll just borrow the money from his corrupt gangster brother Lochlainn and his collapsed defunct bankrupt corrupt gangster shell company Allied Irish Banks."
"Testify, Ma'am, testify!" I applauded.
Behind us Prince Philip had unfolded his newspaper and opened it.
Aff Queen and I turned and stared in horror.
Prince Philip was reading a Leinster Leader.
The Queen gently lowered her head into her hands.
"Oh Philip," she murmured more in sadness than in anger, "you've done it again."
posted by heelers | 4:50 PM
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