Oh, internets. You know my undying dream is to become Queen of England. Honestly. I don’t even think Prince William is that attractive, but dammit, I want to be Queen.
(What? You mean they aren’t looking for an Irish-American Catholic who likes to swear?)
I can think of no better use for my background and work ethic. I can swivel my wrist and ramble about the dismantling of the empire. Other than that? Meh. I’m tired and want to take a nap.
(I’ll bet there’s lots of time for napping when there’s a Regina after your name.)
Of course, I have watched any and all movies about the various monarchs of the realm, even if they are grossly inaccurate *cough*Braveheart*cough*. Of course, I went to see The Young Victoria. And other than the over-dramatic nature of it all and omg-Lord-Melbourne-wants-to-take-over-the-universe-and-probably-get-into-Victoria’s-pants-too part and the completely fictional assassination attempt, I was, of course, able to geek out over it.
My favorite part, though, was the ending. It ended kind of right after Victoria and Albert’s marriage, and at the end of the movie they had them cuddling and then the caption popped up on the screen that read, “Victoria and Albert had nine children. They form the ruling families of Britain, Russia, Norway, etc.”
But they said it like it was supposed to be all heartwarming and their love! It spawned a generation! And don’t you get all tingly just thinking about it? *swoon*
No. You get entangling alliances just thinking about it.
And their love? Their love did nothing. Their shared chromosomes spawned WWI, but that’s about it.
Really. Think about any one of your first cousins. Now think about how screwed up your kids with that person would be. Think about it. Are you thinking about it? Now imagine that, times eight generations. And give them 25% of the world’s population to play with. As my sister so eloquently put it, they’ll play with it in all the wrong ways.
I think this is a point in my favor. Now, in addition to my biting wit and ability to deal with all sorts of awkward family situations, I bring the following to the table-
My family has never run India into the ground, destroyed the Austro-Hungarian Empire, wiped out a generation, brokered the most ridiculous peace treaty ever that did nothing except make the opposing sides so angry that it led to the murder of two out of three European Jews, or allowed for the rise of the Third Reich.
So, Your Majesty…I offer you (and your grandson) my daisy-fresh gene pool and totally unrelated-to-you-womb. And we don’t swear that much. I promise. The womb hardly at all.
Now I think there are only two things (except for The Act of Settlement) standing in my way.
The first will be the awkward moment when I tell them oh, right! The wedding? Will be at a Catholic Church. And we’re going to have a real priest. Not one of your fake ones. And the kids will be Catholic. But you’re welcome to come!
Possibly worse will be when I inevitably spout off regarding Anglo-Irish relations. “I mean, honestly, Bloody Sunday? That was not cool, guys. Overall I approve, but whose idea was it to send in 1 Para? I mean…where are you going? I’m on your side! I promise! Why are you leaving?”
I can hardly wait.