Archive: The six most annoying questions to ask a foreigner in Japan – number 3

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Prince William

Prince William enjoying a lovely suit, which I paid for (by TheMatthewSlack, via Wikimedia Commons)

If you haven’t been following these posts, you might like to start at the beginning.

Here’s the third most irritating question I get asked in Japan.

3. Isn’t Prince William lovely?

Is he? Your guess is as good as mine. I haven’t met him, you see. In England we have this little thing called class, which prevents an oik such as myself from rubbing my filthy calloused shoulders with royalty.

Such as my opinion is, here goes. Prince William is alright. He is a shining diamond in the cesspool of leeches that is Britain’s beloved Royal Family. He’s less belligerently racist than Prince Philip, less prone than Charles to equate sanitary products with hot sex, and, seeing as Harry thinks dressing up as a Nazi is a wizard party idea for someone third in line to the throne of Great Britain and the Commonwealth, appears to have inherited the lion’s share of Di’s brain cells.

Alright, yes. But I draw the line at the man being ‘lovely’. I don’t care that he’s losing his hair (as, incidentally, I’ve just discovered by Googling him) – that just makes him a bit more human. It’s more that him and his troupe of blue-blooded freaks are living life high on the hog off the nation’s wealth while the rest of the country is being systematically screwed out of even the most basic social welfare, on the pretext of tackling a budget deficit run up by a slightly different bunch of posh people tinkering with things they didn’t understand. If the second in line to the throne had any idea what reality constituted for the vast majority of ‘his’ people, perhaps he would have passed on that $1 million honeymoon in the Seychelles. Never mind the cost of the wedding.

But then he doesn’t have any idea, does he? ‘Lovely’ as he might be, he’s still the kind of ruddy-cheeked hamster-faced plummy bastard who chortlingly dresses up as a ‘chav’ with his officer cadet friends at Sandhurst and sees nothing wrong in it. ‘Chav’, incidentally, is a word we use now that everyone in England is middle class and has a nice job in a call centre. It refers to the feckless, criminal and ignorant poor – the indolent poor, as we used to call them back in the glory days of the sixteenth century – who steadfastly refuse to take advantage of the wonderful employment opportunities on offer in a nation where 1.2 million young people are out of work.

Number 2 is here.

From here on August 8th 2012.

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