Buckingham Palace’s Draft Folder (Do Not Send)

I managed to get my hands on a copy of His Majesty’s forthcoming planned Banquet speech during the State Visit to the United States:

My dear Mr President—or, as I believe one must now address you, ‘Commander-in-Chief, Disruptor of Alliances, Survivor of Fierce Critics with Guns, and Occasional Elbower of Other People’s Religion’—

What a joy it is to be here, in this magnificent palace of democracy, where security–I hope–is tight, history is made daily, and only deleted hourly.

I bring the warmest of greetings from the United Kingdom, a nation you have so kindly and so frequently improved through social media and podium commentary of late. Indeed, we are most grateful. It is not every country that benefits from remote diagnosis delivered sometimes at 3 a.m.

Now, I understand there has been some concern regarding our enthusiasm—or lack thereof—for your recent… adventures… in Iran. I must confess, we did consider joining in, but unfortunately the invitation arrived at a place somewhere between “bafflement” and “despair” and was therefore filed under “ambiguous diplomacy.”

We were also advised—most specifically by you, as a matter of fact—that our military, in terms of might, is no longer considered what it once was. It was in this additional lack of light that we also considered it best not to insult you by offering its service. Which is not to say you will not have, for now, the continued use of Bond, James Bond.

As for trade, you have reassured us with curious aplomb that agreements may be rewritten at a moment’s notice, which is rather splendid of you. In Britain, we cherish tradition, but we also admire your innovative approach of treating treaties as lightly annotated suggestions. Simply to be ‘pencilled in’ by you for some nations, I gather, is considered enough. However, one does not wish to be bored of nations.

I should also like to address your recent remarks about our nation’s direction. You suggested we are “going in the wrong way”. I can only say—having witnessed the various so-called “right” ways on offer—this may not, in fact, be such a bad thing.

And yet, despite these lively exchanges, our nations do remain bound together by history, language, and a shared ability to produce headlines that cause mild cardiac events in our respective civil services. Though we do keep losing some of ours to continued repercussions from a man found dead in a cell.

Nor am I particularly assisted by the fact I happen to possess a brother himself once close to this particular someone—whom you may or may not have known yourself.

Mr President, despite all this, you have expressed admiration for the monarchy. This is most touching. It is, after all, the original version of a long-running series in which the lead character never quite leaves the role, no matter the ratings, which in your case, or so one is reliably informed, are not, at present, especially tickety-boo.

I am also aware that my family is still facing increasing calls to reckon with the British Empire’s legacy of slavery and to make amends for the violent, systemic injustices that occurred under the Crown. I should warn you, therefore, that being a King entails a great deal more than merely making truth social.

Regardless, may our friendship endure, as it always has—through words, weather, a slightly baffled respect for Bertrand Russell’s work in analytic philosophy, and whatever it is we’re all pretending isn’t happening right now.

And should matters become truly dire, I can only remind you that Britain still possesses its ultimate strategic asset: the ability to queue in an orderly fashion while everything around it collapses.

In closing, let us celebrate this extraordinary friendship: one in which one nation offers stability, continuity, and quiet reflection—while the other offers… content.

May our special relationship endure, despite Lord Robertson of Port Ellen recently describing this as presently “outdated and unhelpful”. May it last, as it always has—through confusion, contradiction, and whatever tomorrow morning may bring.

And if I may leave you with a small token of British wisdom: when in doubt, say nothing… preferably on the internet.

God save the King—
God bless America—
and may someone, somewhere, please explain what the hell is going on.

Finally, God save—well, all of us, really.

Thank you.

CRIII

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