Dear Diary,
Well. I've never really written in one of these.
Hello. How do you do.
You see, it's my wife Camilla (I mostly call her Cam Cam). She thinks I need to start processing my feelings, ever since I yelled "BLOODY THING" at a pen in front of international news cameras. Writing a journal, she says, might help me put my emotions into words, and understand that it might not really be the pen that's the problem.
But have you ever been leaked on by a pen? Because it's really chuffing annoying. The ink gets on your hands and then your hands get on everything and before you know it you've ruined your new favourite suit and you've touched your face with inky hands and how is anyone meant to take me seriously as the upholder of a 1500-year-old monarchy if I have ink on my chin? And am wearing no pants? Because they're at the dry cleaners?
Sorry. Anyway.
I thought Cam Cam was being silly with her diary advice, but then I heard a very sensible man named Jordan Peterson recommend writing in order to 'clarify your thinking,' so I thought yes thank you kind Sir I might just give that a go.
And, as it turns out, there is something on my mind.
Diary, I'm having this... party. More of a gathering really. Other royals, celebrities, members of the military, that sort of thing. It's actually my Coronation, because at 74, I'm officially becoming the King of England. But there's a problem. Well, two problems.
1) No one wants to come
2) No one cares
And I'm terribly embarrassed.
'I guess I should be grateful you're not in prison.' Image: Getty.
It all started when I decided I wanted a musical act to perform. You know, to honour me. To honour my family. And to honour the empire my ancestors built, mostly through committing colonial crimes against unsuspecting people who were just trying to live their lives in peace.
I mean, look. Is the royal family a glaring symbol of unearned privilege that perpetuates class divisions and inequality? Of course! Does the Crown have a long history of violence, racism, slavery and just generally pillaging primarily non-white nations, only to rarely offer apologies or reparations to the people we've left behind? Yes, obviously.
But should that mean I don't get a party? Absolutely not.
So I started asking my favourite pop stars to perform. And you won't believe it, diary, but they kept saying no.
Adele.
Elton John.
Ed Sheeran.
Kylie Minogue.
Harry Styles. (I love his costumes. They're very fun.)
'When hell freezes over? Not even then.' Image: Getty.
The Spice Girls.
Robbie Williams.
Declined. All of them. Too busy, other commitments apparently. Except for Kylie who was apparently worried about how her presence might look to Australians who are becoming increasingly interested in a Republic.
Newsflash Kylie: no one cares. Here I am trying to have a fun little festivity for a job I've waited more than 70 years to get, and you want to worry about how Australia might feel? How about me? How about my feelings?
You know who I ended up getting, as my musical guests?
Take That.
Who is even in Take That.
Andrea Bocelli.
Ugh.
Lionel Richie.
Katy Perry.
Come on. Katy Perry hasn't had a good song since 'Roar' in 2013 and we all know it.
So there I am, with my s**tty musical guests that I don't even want, and what happens? Harry announces he's coming.
Oh LA-DI-DA.
The guy who MISSED THE RSVP DATE, BY THE WAY, decides he'll be coming to my party, and I'm meant to be filled with gratitude! Oh thank you, Harold. Thank you so much for literally quitting the family, which was something I didn't think any of us were allowed to do. Thank you for writing a bestselling book about all our secrets, including the fact that I do headstands naked in my home to relieve my back pain. Thank you for making us all out to be racists when, well yes, we are racists but only on an institutional level. Not on a personal level. I mean, who knows, Andrew might be. Actually, yes there are probably a few racists but I consider myself not particularly racist and so that hurt my feelings.
The reason I'm so angry at Harry, I suppose, is because... of course our family is f**ked? No one claimed it wasn't? But shut up and cut some ribbons and sign some documents you don't understand like the rest of us?
Guess what, Harry. Being a royal hasn't been particularly lovely for me either. Do you know what it's like to get your first job at the precise moment you want to retire? Do you?
I'm tired. All I want to do is watch Antiques Roadshow with Cam Cam and instead I have to spend the remaining years of my life dealing with leaky pens and trying to pretend I haven't read every page of my son's memoir, including the bit about his frost-nipped penis.
So Harry's coming, but the real kicker is – he's not even bringing Meghan! Meghan who knows all the celebrities and might happen to bring some to my party.
Diary, it's not fair. When Harry and Meghan invited Oprah to their wedding, she said yes immediately. When I invited her to my Coronation, she said unfortunately Gayle needed help with her groceries that day. I gave her MONTHS to make alternative arrangements! And I even made the invitation myself on Canva.
The official invitation for the Coronation of The King and The Queen Consort has been revealed.
— The Royal Family (@RoyalFamily) April 5, 2023
Designed by Andrew Jamieson, the invitation features the Green Man, an ancient figure from British folklore, symbolic of spring and rebirth, to celebrate the new reign.
1/7 pic.twitter.com/MpajIk0SQw
My Coronation has its own emoji. I'm getting a special coach and special plates and I've even asked the whole country to cook a special quiche and still no one cares. What could be a better PR move than a Coronation quiche? WHAT?
The worst part is that in addition to the people who a) won't come and b) don't care about my big day, there are plenty of others who are... angry about it. They say I should cancel my Coronation and feed the poor instead and okay no. I don't want to do that because it's my party and we've already paid the DJ.
They also say it's unfair that my Coronation is taxpayer funded when I'm worth $741 million. Some are yelling that I've never worked a day in my life but what do you call this:
A plaque doesn't just reveal itself, does it? Image: Getty.
And this.
The builders work harder when I'm watching. Image: Getty.
And this.
Okay I'll admit, unveiling a knitted art installation in Scotland did feel a little silly. Image: Getty.
People make fun of me, diary. They laugh about how I demand my pyjamas be ironed. As well as my bedsheets. And my shoelaces.
They love to tell the story about the time my staff left food out for me and when I found it, I shrieked. Because I'd never seen cling wrap. And it was foreign and terrifying.
I want to be taken seriously, as a King who doesn't really do a lot but exists for purely ceremonial purposes.
But mostly, I want people to come to my party. I've got a brand new outfit for it. I'm getting my hair done. And the crown is going to seem absurdly over the top if there are only 30 people there.
So, um. Thank you diary, for listening. Very good.
Until next time.
Charles xxx
For more from Clare Stephens you can follow her on Instagram.
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