It’s time we shooed off our Royal parasites. I don’t want the Queen as Australia’s head of state, and nor do I want her untrustworthy, dysfunctional, self-serving family of heartless opportunists to have any say in our future.
For too long this racist, sexist and unworthy institution populated by dangerously inbred Europeans has arrogantly wielded power it does not deserve – just last week it was revealed the next King of Australia campaigned against the Coalition of the Willing and sarcastically abused “his” Prime Minister, Tony Blair.
Prince Charles son, His Royal Highness Prince William Arthur Philip Louis of Wales, Royal Knight Companion of the Most Noble Order of the Garter may be a more pleasant chap – and he may not - and, at least by royal standards, he is quite well educated.
Boasting some of the finest universities on earth, England may be chockers with such young men. But they can all stay home, as far as I care.
Unfortunately, we have a constitution that humiliates us and insists no Australian is qualified to lead our nation. Not only that, but our leader cannot be Catholic (phew, that’s Tony Abbott ruled out), or Methodist, or Hindu, or even atheist. Our leader can only ever be British (but can have plenty of German blood) and must be a member of the Church of England. They must be the king or queen of England.
Our constitution – of course, England has no such document – also insists that we share our head of state, not just with another nation, the United Kingdom, but 14 others including Papua New Guinea, Belize and Tuvalu (Tuvalu! Young Wills better learn how to scuba dive – she’s a goner with global warming).
Just what’s so wrong with the so-called royal family? Well, where to start: You couldn’t recruit the royal family; equal opportunity laws in Australia – and England - would make it illegal to advertise the position and its requirements.
The British royal family is deeply flawed, and not just because, confining itself to a narrow gene pool of titled men and uneducated ladies, it has thrown up unpleasant inherited diseases such as haemophilia (so common among them it was called “the Royal Disease”) and porphyria whose symptoms include light sensitivity, stomach pains, paralysis, epilepsy and port-wine coloured urine. Nasty.
This branch, which chose to change its name to Windsor when its original moniker, Saxe Coburg Gotha proved inconvenient during World War I – of course they did so by “royal decree” – has turned up an hereditary first: it is genetically predisposed to racism.
The mutation would appear to have started with the late Queen Mother, a “ghastly bigot” according to a BBC journalist who spoke to her on his return from a European summit in the early 1990s. “It will never work, you know . . . It will never work with all those Huns, wops and dagos,” she endearingly advised.
When her daughter married the ceaselessly racist Prince Philip, things weren’t to improve. “You managed not to get eaten then?” Prince Philip said to a British student in Papua New Guinea. To a student in China: “If you stay here much longer you will go home with slitty eyes.”
Electrical equipment with tangled wires in a factory looked “as though it was put in by an Indian”.
Son Charles had a polo-playing Indian mate, Kuldip Dhillon, but one’s chum was known to our next king as “Sooty”. He’d never have stooped to call him Nigger.
In turn, Charles’ youngest son – and keep in mind we are protected from Prince Harry only as long as his brother procreates and buses stay in their lanes – has “our little Paki friend”.
But the real issue is of Australia standing as a proud, independent and mature nation confident that we can find among our 21 million people a woman, or even a man, to be head of state rather than by sexist imposition be delivered the adulterous, deceitful Charles.
We don’t want to inherit a foreigner; we want and deserve an Australian.
When Malcolm Turnbull was mismanaging the republic campaign he at least talked sense, even if the ego that was to see him off as Liberal leader was already visible from the Space Shuttle: “What is worse: a nation that thinks so little of its people that not one of them is good enough to be head of state; or a nation that incompetent, or so timid, that it is incapable of changing its constitution?”
Back then John Brumby agreed. He’d once even been brave enough to meet the world’s most famous republican, Irishman Gerry Adams. That must have seemed long ago when he sat with the Queen at Balmoral last year.
For God’s sake hand us the scissors. I see apron strings.
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