Andy the Eighth

The image of Andrew Mountbatten Windsor being driven away from police custody yesterday will haunt Haus Sachsen-Coburg und Gotha.

This historically fortunate German family didn’t get to where they are today without some customary ruthless efficiency.

This is them swiftly moving into self-preservation mode.

 

The London media are unanimous that this is the biggest threat to the Royal Family since the Abdication Crisis in 1936.

That was caused by the arrival of an American divorcee, Wallis Simpson.

At the time, the chaps on Fleet Street were told to keep schtum about the entire royal shitshow.

Meanwhile, folks Stateside knew the whole story.

Now, Meghan, Duchess of Succession, and the Outcast Harry Wales are living it up across the Pond.

They got their version of events out there on Oprah.

The Wallis Simpson for the Instagram age.

In fairness, I hear her jam is something else

This morning, in the study, I returned to examine Andrew Lownie’s excellent piece of work on a piece of work.

I’m sure that it will become the locus classicus for future scholars and historians of the self-styled House of Windsor.

Then, in a way, far too contrived for a novel, my all-weather, reliable fear an phoist made it up the bóithrín today with this.

Published in 1992, I had read it when it came out, but didn’t have a copy.

Shout out to AbeBooks.

Full disclosure, Professor Greenslade is a friend and one-time colleague on An Phoblacht.

I was heartened when I quickly checked the back index of Roy’s book and found many entries under the heading “Mossad”.

Robert Maxwell died in November 1991 when he went over the side of his yacht, the Lady Ghislaine, in rather mysterious circumstances.

When he was buried on Jerusalem’s Mount of Olives on November 10, 1991, the leaders and legends of that intelligence organisation, who prefer the shadows, briefly came out into the sunlight to honour one of their own.

The craft itself was named after his favourite child, who is now doing time in the USA for sex trafficking.

It is a matter of record that, as he was then, Prince Andrew often travelled to Epstein’s infamous island in the Caribbean.

Let’s temporarily park the undeniable issues around the character of Mr Mountbatten Windsor and focus on the place of this celebrity feudalism in the unwritten shambles that the Brits call a constitution.

That which is cultural is not amenable to reason.

Many Brits are undoubtedly addicted to the deference drug, and that’s the headspace that the Saxe-Coburg Gotha crime crew inhabit.

The current head of the commission is a poster child for consanguinity.

This sick Brit pantomime has an impact on this island, and a substantial number of people in the North East of this country regularly celebrate their subjugation.

Meanwhile, in Dún na nGall, your humble correspondent elects his head of state.

I know which system I prefer.

When the news broke yesterday, I messaged an SNP Braveheart I am in touch with.

I  reminded him that when he took his oath of office, Andrew Mountbatten Windsor was one of the “heirs and successors” to whom he pledged his allegiance.

Here is what they have to say in order to get their paycheque.

“I, [name], do swear that I will be faithful and bear true allegiance to His Majesty King Charles, his heirs and successors, according to law. So help me God”.

Sociologists call this a “degradation ceremony”.

Of course, the SNP still send elected representatives to Westminster.

Consequently, any claims to be part of any genuine secessionist project I find rather plastic.

As I stated to my Holyrood Braveheart, while your guys are in Westminster, you’re sitting in a regional assembly.

For the avoidance of doubt,  the man arrested yesterday at Wood Farm on the Sandringham Estate remains eighth in line to the British throne.