The Middletons--Kate, William and Baby George go homey to mommy dearest
Written by  // Thursday, 25 July 2013 16:04 //


At least, I am trying to make a little trumpet sound. Yes! Because the newest royal baby, Prince George Alexander Louis of Bucklebury, has finally appeared.



And how did Bucklebury’s newest prince appear?

Why, Kate Middleton and her royal hubby, Prince William, arrived at St. Mary’s Hospital in Paddington, London, and left with a nice, newborn baby, which they showed off in the street to universal "oohs!" and aahs!"

So far, no dead nurses have been reported hanging by their necks from scarves tied to flimsy wardrobes. No notes have been found saying, "Pay my mortgage!"


I guess we can go tell the "Birth Truthers" crowd that they were wrong, that no surrogates were used, and that no nurses were harmed in the making of this baby.


But there’s time to find something similar, if people are looking about, the Birth Truthers insist. Jacintha Saldanha, they point out, wasn’t found dead until three days after the prank phone call was received at King Edward VII Hospital, where Kate had gone for treatment of extreme morning sickness. And while the hospital muckety-muck spokespersons insisted that Jacintha’s death was a suicide prompted by her being yelled at by management for forwarding a "prank" telephone call from two Australian radio disc jockeys, anyone who listened to the call realized that the joke was pretty tame by "shock jock" standards.

Radio stations make these hilarious telephone calls every day, all over the world, except maybe in places like North Korea where they seem to have no sense of humor. Yes, hundreds of thousands of silly, goofy pranksters pretending to be the Queen of England (and doing a mighty fair imitation of that reedy, plummy, upper-crust accent, too) call up all kinds of places, with much sniggering and guffawing heard in the background–and no nurses are later found swinging from the yard-arm.

But hey, let’s not dampen the grand occasion of the birth of a new royal!


And His Royal Highness George Alexander Louis is a cutie! At least, from as much as we could see of him through the very expensive white, gossamer blankie that Kate and Prince William received for free, and that the rest of us can buy for, oh, I don’t know how much, but it is a lot more than I paid at Walmart for the flannel baby blankie I used to take my own kid home from the hospital in. And if you want to buy one now, you will have to wait because there has been quite a run on the expensive white, gossamer blankie.

Indeed, since the Middletons arrived on the royalty scene, there has been quite an overt commercialization and marketing of absolutely everything they touch or wear or imbibe or that Uncle Gary snorts up his....


What IS going on?

Why, it is the commonization of royalty, on the move!

The notion that if you buy a blue bespoke polka dot dress or wear ridiculous high heels while you are pregnant, and even just after you’ve given birth while holding your baby, and you wrap your baby in some very expensive white, gossamer blankie that royalty gets as a present but you have to raid the newborn’s college fund to buy, and if you daily line your eyes with kohl, no matter what, well, some kind of identity transfer will magically take place and you will become royalty.

Yes! Just like Carole Middleton is doing, through her daughter!

And just like all commoner families, Kate Middleton and her husband and their new baby are heading out to live with Mommy Carole and Daddy Michael because...because...uhm...hmm....

Why indeed are they doing that?

Most thirty-something "older" parents don’t head home to Mommy and Daddy, especially if they happen to be the in-laws.

And the notion that the multi-zillion dollar Kensington Palace "apartment" is just not yet ready for the new little family–and that there is otherwise no room at the inn-- is laughable.

But thank heavens for all those "Palace insiders," although sometimes they are very cryptic about exactly which "Palace" they are confiding to the public from. Makes you think that there is a secret inner circle composed of Queen Carole and her loyal Bucklebury Palace courtiers.

Anyway, a "Palace insider" has revealed that the reason that Kate and Prince William and going to live with Mommy Carole and Daddy Michael for at least six weeks is that London is now "hot and humid," and the Middletons have air-con-do and...and...a swimming pool.


If you have a newborn anything, even a puppy or a kitten, this is just what you DON’T want!

Swimming pools are dangerous! Newborn babies, toddlers, and even staggering-around zonked-out adults like Kate’s Uncle Gary can fall in and drown! It only takes an unattended second–and that might be just the time when the personal protection detail is busy answering the door to pay for the pizza delivery, Kate is busy grooming herself, William is rubbing Rogaine into his scalp, Michael is busy inflating his rubber Sumo wrestler diaper to entertain everyone, and Carole is dialing every newspaper in town to give more "Palace insider" updates. And too much air-con-do can give a newborn baby a bad cold! And that can lead to pneumonia! And then, perhaps a tragic consequence, and then Kate and Prince William would have to go back to the drawing board. Or the laboratory. Or wherever it is that the Birth Truthers claim the royal embryos come from.

Traditionally, the real royals have been smarter than to expose their heirs of the heirs of the heirs to the throne to such dangerous conditions.

In Scotland, where the Queen customarily vacations right about now, there is plenty of cold air–just open a window! And if you want a bracing dip, head down to the icy loch-aninny whatever it is called.

But royal babies are traditionally bundled up in sensible, scratchy bunting clothes and given into the care of nannies, who guard them with their very lives while they rock gently, eyes wide open, and gather up juicy info to write a book.

Sheesh! Instead of guesting with any of the in-laws or entrusting your first-born offspring to a nanny who is secretly writing a book, why not just stay in a hotel? If you are the son and daughter-in-law of Prince Charles, what the heck! Get a nice suite of rooms at Claridge’s! Have some room service! Demand lots of fresh towels, and change the sheets every day! Prince William can escape to the Lounge when the nappy-changing novelty starts wearing off. And practically every royalty-wannabe in the world who’s already nicked money from their baby’s college fund to buy a blue bespoke polka dot dress or a very expensive white, gossamer blankie will then raid the IRA, piggyback the mortgage, encumber whatever assets they may have, and start staying at Claridge’s themselves, or at least have a (truly excellent and exceptional) afternoon tea there, read magazines and drink coffee in Claridge’s elegant Foyer, or start rubbing elbows with Prince William in the Fumoir.

You’ll recognize Prince William. He’s the faintly depressed, bald-headed beaver-toothed fellow wearing spectacles and the open-collar shirt with the sleeves rolled up high.

So plebeian-looking!

I guess nobody’s waiting in line to dress like him.

Even the apprentice to the assistant to the junior maitre-d at Claridge’s dresses better.

How ironic that Prince William is actually the royal who is cheapest to imitate!

And he’s the only true royal in the Middleton montage!

Some poor apprentice to the assistant to the junior bar tender at Claridge’s might mistake Prince William for a commoner who took a wrong turn at Harrod’s and is looking for the tube station, grab him by the back collar of that working-class-Joe tie-less shirt, and chuck him out on the walk.

Discreetly, of course!

And they’ve done it before–to the famous gossipper and aristocrat-gad-about Taki Theodoracopulos and some genuine, aristocrat chums of his. Allegedly. Because although Taki claimed Claridge’s staff gave him the old heave-ho from lobby to sidewalk, Claridge’s claims to have no recollection whatsoever of the incident.

Now that’s discretion! There are no chatty "Palace Insiders" at Claridge’s.

But once the pauper who is really a prince is identified, and his bespoke-polka-dot dress-clad wife joins him with their little very expensive white, gossamer blankie-wrapped bundle of baby joy in hand, Claridge’s would surely discretely offer Kate and Prince William not only a haven of discretion, but also a very good deal for their patronage.

And the rest of us will just have to raid our little ones’ college funds.


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