The Triple Goddess (20 page)

Decided to
advertise.

LADY, CIRCA FIFTY, SEEKS POSITION AS QUEEN—

STATE, PRINCIPALITY, SHE’S EQUALLY KEEN;

HEMISPHERICALLY WESTERN IS ZONAL PREFERENCE;

LIGHT DUTIES ONLY, PLENTY OF DEFERENCE.

REQUIREMENTS: CIVIL LIST; SERVANTS MISCELLANEOUS;

JEWELS, MANY; DRESS ALLOWANCE GENEROUS;

A DAIMLER FOR TRANSPORT—NOT TAXI OR BUS—

A MANSION’S OKAY, AND PALACE A PLUS.

CANDIDATE WARRANTS NO DISEASES OR MADNESS,

ERRATIC BEHAVIOUR OR PRONENESS TO BADNESS;

NO CONSORTS OR CORGIS, DEPENDENTS OR HEIRS,

OR ELSE TO DECLARE AS TO HER AFFAIRS.

Doris’s ad went viral round the world;

On billboards and posters her cred was unfurled;

Via Internet and e-mail, while faxes uncurled,

She was Facebooked and Tweeted and Blogged.

The Situations Wanted: MONARCH-IN-WAITING

Column bolded her; and amongst the dating

Ads from singles hell-bent on mating

Was WHITE QUEEN—NON-SMOKER, NO PETS.

For days our Doris cooled her heels

And learned how exiled royalty feels

When our throne has been stolen and nobody kneels

To do homage to our person.

Understandably people were a tad bemused,

And
Daily Mail
readers, not being used

To seeing and believing at once, refused

To accept it wasn’t a joke.

Most presumed that this was a spoof

By a prankster or some loony goof;

Surely no doctor could offer proof

This woman wasn’t nuts.

Even if she weren’t no queens were required

Just then; none had recently retired;

None seemed in danger of being fired—

The Regina market was cool.

Doris did get one polite reply

Pointing out that, even if one were to die,

Of heirs there was no short supply:

Her prospects still were grim.

The royal incumbents weren’t amused

And searched for legal grounds to accuse

D. of treason, with copyright abuse

Thrown in for extra measure;

Emperors, kings, and princes complained

That their spouses’ honour had been stained,

And in Court circles High Dudgeon reigned

Over D.’s lese-majesty.

Having got the attention of society,

And won herself such notoriety,

Doris was sought out for a variety

Of interviews on TV

Where her winning smile and personality,

Her homespun seemingly genuine quality,

And unshaken confidence in her suitability

Delighted all who tuned in.

Gradually the choleric intemperance

Of her sharpest critics turned to benevolence

As many of them started making reference

To D. as a stylistic meme.

The pundits, complimentary and reverential

In their comments, ignored the lack of the credential-

Filled résumé that might be considered essential

For her to be taken seriously.

On air Doris said, “This ridiculous notion

Of Divine Right, that it is more than a lotion

To be applied against sunburn, or a prescription

From the chemist, is quite absurd!”

Encouraged by the response, she continued to experiment

With outrageous statements, greatly to the enjoyment

Of her audiences, and ill-concealed embarrassment

Of those who look down their noses.

She did imitations of the genteel and refined,

And the way that bluebloods behaved when they dined;

She laughed like a loon every time that she signed

Doris R on her bouncing cheques.

Nothing, however, in her wildest imagination

Could prepare Doris for the degree of elation

She felt when answering the door to...A DELEGATION

FROM THE HOUSE OF COMMONS!

Although Doris’s jaw dropped unregally,

She was able to recover herself quickly

And ask them in for a pot of tea,

If they didn’t mind PG Tips.

Once inside, the MPs swore her to secrecy

And, stressing that this was on the q.t.,

Told her they’d voted to deem her worthy

Of ANOINTMENT AS THEIR NEW RULER!

It was not, the MP’s assured her most vehemently,

That He Who Must Be Obeyed Currently

Hadn’t done his best to rule the land decently,

But sadly he was…well…
mad
.

At the end of the year he’d agreed to abdicate

And in his last Christmas Message state

That, “This dynasty, we’ve concluded, must terminate.

We’re a fruitcake, not a Battenberg.”

Said the King, “We…I’ve…had it with
anni horribili

And want to spend more time with my family

Of legumes.”
FIST-PUMP!
His Britannic Majesty

Had agreed to chuck in the job!

So now a replacement had to be found

Who would undertake not to screw around

And have no problem in being bound

By some very specific conditions.

Since a recent survey had made it clear

That most of the People were sincere

In continuing to hold the Monarchy dear,

If it cleaned up its act and was cheaper,

The Treasury, the Right Hons. stated, would bear

The cost of purchase, upkeep and repair

Of a terraced property in Dorking where

They thought Doris would be happy.

The Exchequer, they said, planned to liquidate

All Crown Assets down to the last pewter plate,

And pay her a small annuity, adequate

For a modern queen to live on.

Well! Now that she was in the loop,

But shuddering at the thought of Campbell’s soup,

Doris knew she had minutes to convince the group

That it needed to sweeten its offer

By persuading it over Mr Kipling cake

That the cuts No. 11 was proposing to make

Would, to be blunt, a serious mistake

And the falsest of economies.

(Disclosure: Doris had a marker due

On a loan and her horse had failed to come through

At Kemptown racetrack, where she’d tried to rescue

Her fortunes with a last gamble.)

“Ladies and gents!” said Doris, “ere you depart,

May I recommend that you take to heart

The advice of a woman who stands apart

From others you may have on your list?

“I want to explain why you can’t afford

To let the wisdom pass ignored

Of one who maintains that a queen, to be adored,

Must be able to live rather well.

“The public, you know, takes great offence

At revelations of unnecessary expense

Incurred by politicos’ travel and indulgence,

When the taxpayer’s footing the bill.

“Now, while chauffeured engines idling

Outside are what I might recall in the morning

When
Today
and John Humphrys are calling,

It doesn’t have to be that way.

“From the Beeb, I hazard, there’s nothing to fear