Robert Kirby : Loose cannon
The residual loyalty the British royal family continues to inspire – even at this far end of their old Empire – is often quite bewildering. One would have thought that, by the end of the 20th century, the stubborn parasitical existence of any royal houses anywhere would be tolerated only in the sense that these silly folk be allowed to go on calling themselves kings and queens and dukes and all the rest of it. Beyond that, it’s about time they all went out and got jobs and stopped bumming off their subjects.
Here and there one is vaguely aware of European leftovers like the Scandinavian and Grimaldi royal houses, but even those are fading away. England, of course, thinks differently and their public purse is conscientiously plundered in order to continue to support what must be one of the most hideously overpriced pudding-faced bunch of free-loaders left – apart from our own Independent Broadcasting Authority.
There are signs that even the Windsors’ luck is starting to run out. Elizabeth’s civil list has been slashed, at last she’s paying taxes. But even suggest that the British royals have outlasted their usefulness and any patriotic Brit will protest that their royal family is not only good for the national psyche but, as a tourist attraction, more than supports itself.
I would disagree and say that these days the primary function of the British royal family is to provide seedy grist to the tabloid mills. And they do that extraordinarily well. It’s not often that a future king of England confesses that he’d like to be his mistress’s tampon.
Clearly there is a lesson to be learnt. If the concept and traditions of European royalty are, indeed, to be sustained, then they should move afield. And where better than here?
Notwithstanding our formidable array of so- called “traditional leaders”, so far South African royalty presides only over the lucky Zulu people. But the asset surely goes further than that and needs to be exploited, indeed, marketed with the same enthusiasm the British put into the job.
Step back and take a look at King Zwelithini. Imagine what national pride he could engender, what cohesive forces could be reinforced if better use was made of the king’s innate majesty.
Imagine the noble weight he would lend to state occasions like the opening of Parliament. I venture to suggest it would be churlish of the African National Congress to oppose such a move. After all, when he gets the chance, their own nominal king rides around in the British golden coach.
I’ll wager a pound to a penny that if Nelson Mandela had been awarded an honorary British knighthood, he wouldn’t exactly have buckled at the thought.
When it comes to our own birthday honours list, it will only take a little tinkering for an OBE to stand for Order of the Buthelezi Empire. A Knight Order of the Garter becomes Knight Order of the Inkatha – or even Gatsha. I know all this might be a
touch Eurocentric for some, but you don’t hear a lot of protest when they carry that very English-looking mace into Parliament. Political multiculturalism is, by its nature, a moveable feast. If the crown fits, wear it.
He’s already got a palace but King Zwelithini will also require a royal yacht. He can’t be expected to use that rusty old tub, SS Outeniqua, let alone the old Tugela pont. It might be a good idea if one of the navy’s new corvettes got refitted into a floating castle that even Lizzie II would envy.
And getting back to Madiba. It is well known that he is of aristocratic stock. But I think he should actually be elevated to regality and called Nelson the First. He deserves nothing less. It is high time that his reign was acknowledged in more than sentimental specifications.
He can bash me on the head with his sword any time he wants to.