|Where were you, Wills, you traitor?|
“I swear to die a free subject rather than bend my knee to an elected head of state, because the stupid British public would vote for either David Cameron or Tony Blair - both of whom have shown themselves to be hopelessly out of touch with the great British public,” said a typical peasant, still draped patriotically in a damp, sweaty Union flag.
“Let’s stick with the hereditary system,” he urged joyless republicans, “Because that way we all get to cast our votes for that legendary man of the people, the Prince of Wales, who’ll get the job anyway on account of democratically dropping out of his mum’s fanny first. What could be fairer than that?”
“Unless he starts talking bollocks again,” he mused. “In which case, I’ll simply switch my vote to that legendary man of the people, the Duke of Cambridge, who’ll get the job eventually on account of democratically dropping out of his dad’s late wife’s fanny first. See? I win again.”