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Yet another icky royal scandal
There's something about Charles ...
As in, the Prince of Wales, future sovereign, famous
adulterer, infamous cuckold. And, in his sexual thrall to the slatternly
Camilla Parker-Bowles, a doofus altogether too reminiscent of his great-uncle,
Edward, the pussy-whipped ponce-who-would-not-be-King.
But what is it, exactly, about Chas that has landed the
royal family in yet another puddle of scandal? This one so unseemly, so
icky, that — like a certain kind of love (at least until not so
long ago, at which point it wouldn't shut up) — it can't even speak
its name; indeed, must not identify itself, by dint of court order and
What we have instead is the bizarre spectacle of Prince
Charles vehemently denying rumours — in wall-to-wall newspaper coverage
yesterday — despite the fact these rumours have never been printed
in the British press nor uttered on British airwaves, although some off-shore
media outlets (alas, not the Toronto Star) have tittle-tattled and most
of the damp details, as alleged, are accessible on the Internet.
Really, one needn't be Hercule Poirot to figure this
There are gobs of clues dangling all over the place.
And the meat of the matter, the sexual pith of it, is quite preposterous,
so "risible" (in one veteran royal watcher's description), that
Prince Charles would have been much the wiser if he'd just left it alone,
not even dignified the accusation by denying it, especially since he could
deny it only obliquely, in an overheated information vacuum. This after
his own former senior aide, one Michael Fawcett, had secured an injunction
preventing the media from publishing any details about the allegation.
And even Fawcett's identity, as injunction-seeker, was
protected by a publication ban until a judge lifted that purdah-veil midweek,
in response to an application by The Guardian.
A royal gagging can only go so far, as the Windsors are
discovering. And, erelong, there's no doubt all these distasteful details
will get a full and public (read: published) airing. Prince Charles has
all but ensured that, his ill-advised pre-emptive denials merely further
feeding the titillation frenzy.
There's this guy, see, a former royal valet, who has
in the past claimed to have been raped (in 1989) by another member of
the royal staff, someone who worked for Prince Charles.
This is not a new story. It has been out there for ages.
In fact, the late Princess of Wales is known to have made a tape of the
valet's allegations and begged Charles to fire the alleged rapist, which
did not happen.
This tape was central to the theft case against Diana's
butler, Paul Burrell, which collapsed last year after the Queen suddenly
remembered a conversation she'd had with the accused wherein the butler
stated he'd taken certain items from Diana's Kensington Palace apartments
for "safekeeping" following her death in Paris.
Diana kept the tape under lock and key in a special inlaid
wooden box, a box that was later forced open, police said. No one seems
to know where the cassette has ended up — although Burrell certainly
does point an accusatory finger at Diana's sister, Lady Sarah McCorquodale.
Anyway, the tape is not the specific issue now. Rather,
the fuss seems to emanate from another allegation, also made by this same
Prince Charles' valet, about a sexual incident he claims to have witnessed,
involving the Prince and the aforementioned aide, the one the valet accused
of having raped him.
These are not difficult dots to connect, people.
Little wonder, I suppose, that Prince Charles felt it
necessary to defend by denying, to deflect by flicking off.
Sexual scandal by way of heterosexual adultery is one
thing; allegations of the kind being made in England last week quite another.
Between the classes, no less! Upstairs, downstairs!
Why it's ... it's ... downright Diana-cratic.
Honestly, look at some of the vicious commentary surrounding
publication of Burrell's recent book, A Royal Duty, which is actually
a great big valentine to Diana and a tender defence of the royal family,
most especially the Queen and her husband, Prince Philip, who apparently
both made valiant efforts at placating and advising their erstwhile, impetuous
Just try to tell me a whole whack of the vitriol engendered
by A Royal Duty isn't rooted in class snobbery and the audacity —
the sheer gall! — of a butler who fancied himself a confidant to
and protector of the princess. But, cripers, one does wonder at the carelessness
of the royals when hiring (or accepting) the men and women who most intimately
share their lives — even to the point of squeezing toothpaste onto
their toothbrushes — albeit in the capacity of servants. Which must
render them entirely invisible.
There's an odd symmetry to the scandalous comeuppance
arising now from a couple of servants to Charles and Diana: The valet
and the butler.
I am, however, left with one overriding question: Good
golly, was there anybody the late Princess of Wales didn't have sex with?
Yes, yes, she went to her marital bed a 20-year-old virgin,
never got a chance to sow so much as a pinto bean, much less a bunch of
wild oats. And she spent at least a few years having dull leg-overs with
no one other than the droopy-arsed future King, after whom just about
any male with a pulse and a chin might have looked dashing.
(Presumably, Major James Hewitt, ultra-cad, was a darn
sight more handsome in the late `80s, when he was famously shagging HRH,
with her husband's tacit approval, or so the chronically unemployed pseudo-gigolo
told a documentary crew that followed him about last year, as Diana's
former squeeze sought vainly for a buyer who might give him a million-or-so
for the princess' reportedly hot-and-panting love letters.
Time has not been kind. Hewitt, as evidenced in that
documentary — finally shown on Canadian TV last week — has
gone to seed, all gin-blossom booze-face and flabby haunches. But Bryan
Adams? Bryan Adams?
So says the Canadian pop singer's ex-girlfriend. And
he's not exactly denying it.
Sure did a lot of slumming, and boffing, the Princess
formerly known as HRH.
Full credit for this news article goes to: the toronto