The Queen's First Day
IN A PARALLEL UNIVERSE WITH NO SUCH THING AS BREXIT, A NEW MONARCH BEGINS HER RULE...
It was the morning after the coronation. The newly installed Queen Kathy looked from the palace window at the country below. At last it was all hers. Oh boy, was she going to have fun.
However, within thirty eight minutes, she noticed something – or rather the lack of something.
She entered the royal chamber and started looking around. Her loyal retainer, Mary, observed her from near the throne.
“Can I help you, your majesty?” asked Mary.
“I’m looking for something.” said the Queen.
“What?” asked Mary. She was used to this. Only yesterday it had taken her fifty six minutes to find her crown. And then she went and sat on it.
“I’m looking for a man.”
“Any particular man?”
The Queen shook her head and continued to search every nook and cranny of the chamber. “No, any will do. I can’t find one anywhere. The palace was swarming with them yesterday. Couldn’t move for them.”
“Indeed.” agreed Mary. There had been over 800,000 present at the coronation, and it had gone without a hitch, apart from the tip of the crown being held on with sellotape.
“That tall one with the strange moustache…?” The Queen asked, drawing a huge moustache in the air.
Mary nodded. “The butler.”
“Yes, him, the butler.” said the Queen excitedly. “Where is he?”
“He resigned, your majesty.”
The Queen looked crestfallen. “Resigned? Whatever for? And what about that fat bloke, you know, with the wellies and the hat?”
“Jenkins the gardener.”
“That’s him.”
“He’s resigned too.”
The Queen sat dejectedly on the throne. “Are there any male staff left?”
“Nope,” said Mary, “all gone, all resigned yesterday.”
“Why?” asked the Queen. “Was it something I said?”
“In a manner of speaking, yes, your majesty.”
After wracking her brains for three minutes, the Queen said, “Remind me.”
“It was your expressed desire that when you became Queen that you wanted an entirely female staff.”
The Queen was puzzled. “What? I don’t remember saying that. When did I say that?”
“When you were five.” said Mary.
“Five?”
Mary nodded. “You made your dad, the late, lamented king, swear an oath that when you came to power that you didn’t want any silly old men clogging up the place.”
“That was years ago!” said the Queen. “I’ve changed my outlook since then. I didn’t know what men were when I was five. They were either smelly or creepy. I didn’t realise they could be useful too.”
“Ever since all male servants have had it in their contracts that on the day the country was officially handed over to you that they all had to go.”
The Queen thought about this for a minute.
“Can’t I get them back?”
“No,” said Mary. “I don’t think most would want to come back either. No, you stipulated that for your entire rule you only wanted female staff.”
“But there’s only four of them!”
“Five, your majesty.” said Mary. “Two maids, a cook, a cleaner and a new gardener.”
“And you, that’s six.”
“No, your majesty. I am not staff. I’m a retainer.”
It was too early in the morning for this. The Queen had only had three eggs for breakfast, her brain hadn’t got into gear yet. After trying to work it out herself, she asked, “What’s the difference?”
“You can’t fire me,” explained Mary. “Not under any circumstances.” She briefly looked towards the window. “On the flip side, I can never leave you for alternative employment. We’re stuck with each other until one of us dies.”
“Hang on,” said the Queen, “if so much weight was placed on what I said when I was five, didn’t I also ask for a unicorn?”
“Indeed you did,” said Mary, “the royal scientists are working on it at this very moment.”
“And why weren’t they working on it when I was five?”
“Oh, they were.” said Mary. “Started straight away. Problem is unicorns don’t exist in this reality.”
The Queen stood up, trying to regain control of this situation. “Stick an ice-cream cone on a horse, is that too difficult?”
Mary sighed. “They tried that, you said no, it had to be a real unicorn, not a makeshift one, or a robot, or two people dressed up. A real one that could breed and start a unicorn farm.”
Blimey, it’s difficult being Daddy’s favourite, thought the Queen. How was she to know that all these years later the ramblings of a five year old would be the basis for running the country?
Then she had another thought.
“These scientists,” she asked, “are they male?”
“Yes, your majesty,” said Mary.
“But they don’t count as servants?”
“No, they are outworkers,” said Mary. “They’re in a lab sixty miles away, working tirelessly for Queen Kathy of England.”
“What about Scotland?”
“What about it?”
The Queen pointed at a map on the far wall. “Aren’t I Queen of Great Britain?”
“No, your majesty,” said Mary, “you are Queen of England. In your teenage years there were many rebellions, referendums and elections.”
“I was bored.”
“No, not you, the UK,” said Mary. “It got so bad that everyone decided to cut their losses and go back to separate kingdoms for Wales and Scotland, and Ireland went back to being whole.”
The Queen sat back down on the throne. Maybe some bacon would get her brain functioning a bit quicker?
“I have many questions,” she said.
“I have many answers,” said Mary. “But, for now, embrace your new monarchy and look ahead.”
“Can I employ a male hairdresser?”
“No.”
“Can we get one as an outworker?”
“Yes, your majesty.”
The Queen smiled. “I think I’m getting the hang of this.”
Mary shook her head. “Not quite, but thanks for trying.”
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