MEET the new boss, same as the new boss.
Actually at Westminster for the State Opening of Parliament, the boss literally remains the same because it’s the King, who gets carted in a golden carriage into Westminster for the day for a morning of ridiculous ceremony.
He’s hardly setting a great example for healthy living given that his gaff is only a 20-minute walk away, but that’s beside the point.
Charles is not a born public speaker. Actually, he was literally born to do it but unfortunately, that’s his only qualification.
Before he arrives, barriers are put up around Parliament and soldiers line the streets to do funny walks. They take the walks quite seriously and there is much shouting of orders.
And the band begins to play...
Every now and then a marching band pitches up, which is by far and away the highlight of the event. Much better than the guff buskers we usually get in these parts.
A hardy band of anti-monarchy protesters organised by the pressure group Republic set up on the corner outside HMRC’s offices.
Across Whitehall, tourists gather, desperate for a sight of the old man in his finery.
The King’s crown makes it to Parliament first, having got its own ride to the event. Charles follows suit and is delivered to the House of Lords, where he sits on his great big throne.
An emissary in the form of the Black Rod is sent to the Commons, where the MPs make a great display of protesting about their independence only to follow once the messenger is finally let in.
Back at the Lords, Charles droned on about the stuff his government would do. On and on he went as a nation snored.
The Land of Nod
Sleepiness is not the vibe the new government wants to project but there is a bit of that about the place these days.
I think we all got inured to the daily chaos of the Conservatives. It became a sort of background hum.
At times, it felt like lawmaking was the secondary function of parliament, subordinate to its main role as the stage for Tory psychodrama.
We’ll see how long it all lasts. For now learning the new names and faces of all the Scottish MPs is a bit like counting sheep.
We’re going to need some more coffee to get through this bit.
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