G'Day From Downunder

Time for another cuppa and an update on what's happening down here in the land of Kangaroos and Kolas, so get the kettle on and we'll get going.

Last week while browsing through the morning tabloid, trying to avoid all the political clap trap that politicians try to force feed us at election time, I noticed some wiz-bang pollie in the Labour Party stated that if they win this forthcoming federal election they will have a referendum, hopefully, to make Australia a Republic. Sounds quirky doesn't it?

It's not like we have to win a war or anything like that to gain our independence. We just change a few documents, take a few plaques down from public buildings, remove the Queen's face from our currency, maybe a stamp over, nothing really dramatic and Bob's your uncle. There you have it a brand new Republic in the Pacific. I

t's ludicrous when you think about it, to have a Queen thirteen thousand miles away supposedly ruling a country at the opposite side of the world. Its not as if she pokes her nose into the running of the country or anything. I'd like to think she uses Australia as a bit of a R&R to get away from Prince Phillip every now and again. It's like sneaking out to a quiet pub for a drink or two, an oasis from the rat race.

On the subject of the Queen let me explore a few things about her. Let's look at what she might do in her day.

When she jumps out of bed in the morning wearing her red white and blue pyjamas (it's hard to believe she would wear green white and yellow ones and jump is probably an exaggeration considering she's eighty or thereabouts), does she sing one or two verses of "I feel pretty" or does she first go for a power walk or a jog on the treadmill before her shower?

Maybe she doesn't shower as she may have her lady in waiting sponge her down. I don't profess to have any knowledge of the Windsor household whatsoever considering she's nearly a sworn enemy of every Irishman, woman and child that ever ate a potato.

Why would Buckingham Place pass on such personal information to me? There's no more hope of that happening than a Bishop having a sly drop out of a bottle of Paddy.

So everything I say here is a product of my ever-busy and fertile imagination; Now where did I drop off? Oh yea, the sponge down.

If she's anything like me it's off to the loo and a read of the paper before breakfast because I don't have time to read the paper at breakfast, hows that for a bit of common sense?

I suppose she has got to get through a few more papers than me. Then it comes to the paper work after she finished on the loo. I wonder if she's a folder or a scruncher? Or maybe neither, maybe she uses hundred pound notes or does she call for the lady in waiting?

I think it only fair to ask that question you don't want her flushing the hard earned money of the average poor Limey (Brit) down the John now do we?

Now she heads for the breakfast table and a plateful of kippers and toast and it's unlikely she would have a conversation with Prince Phillip as they both have stiff upper lips so it's only fair to assume they would smile and nod at each other. Then she may take time to open the fan mail since the serious stuff would be handled by her secretaries and again, I'm sure she would be disappointed for the umpteenth time - no fan mail from the Irish. Goes to show there are something's even a Queen can't have.

Notice she always carries a handbag! Did you ever wonder what's in it? Let me help you out here. Let's pick a few things, a brick, the house keys a toilet roll, loose change to buy what(?), maybe pick up a pound of sugar on the way home or some filler in case she cracks a smile, don't know about you but I'll go for the toilet roll.

Now it's off to the serious hard work of hand waving from the back seat of the Royal Limo. I have met some people who swore on their dead parents' souls that the hand seen waving in the back seat of the Limo is mechanical.

I'm willing to overlook that point of view and give Lizzie the benefit of the doubt on this one. I'm sure she is in her seventh heaven since Margaret Thatcher, better known as the Iron Lady or was it The Iron knickers, is retired and the poor Queen doesn't have to spoil her day putting up with the Baroness of Bitchiness and the scourge of the Coal Miners any more. To be fair to the Queen, when they're together, Margaret Thatcher makes her look a little bit like Britney Spears, now did I say a little?

Margaret must be the only person on earth who would scare away ghosts. At least her retirement put a smile on the Queens face even if it was only for a minute.

Now back to the Queens itinerary. So after a morning of hand waving and visiting a hospital or two it's off to McDonalds for lunch, a Quarter pounder, fries and coke while the chauffer waits outside in the car a quick puff on a cigarette and a two minute dash to the loo. And guess what was in the handbag, dare I say I was right; I bet your glad I was right 'cause a brick isn't much good in a McDonalds loo unless your about three feet tall and can't sit up.

Then it's off to Harrods to buy some silky frilly undergarments; one wonders if she just browses through the racks or does she get a private viewing or maybe her Lady in Waiting does this very private important bit of shopping for her.

Can you imagine the Lady in Waiting addressing the counter assistant 'good afternoon madam I'm looking to buy some very sexy frillies for a Queen'. Now imagine the assistants reply 'Oh yea why didn't Elton John come to make the purchases for himself?' They fall about the floor laughing!

For this sort of sensitive purchase maybe she sends MI5 to acquire those little cuties after dark in the dead of night with lookouts on every corner.

If you think it's a problem for the old girl trying to buy some sexy frillies how might you think she disposes of them after she finally wears 'em out. I bet they are not used as chamoises to polish the family's silver as our old ones are.

One would have to suppose they were shredded or burned, otherwise there is the possibility that some low life might rummage through the Buckingham Palace bins to rescue some of those discarded garments and oops the next time you walk into your local sports bar there's a framed Royal Bloomers, with a forged autograph, up on the wall. No laughing matter at all, how would you like to turn up at your local sports bar and see your framed undies there on the wall for all to see?

It's a toss of a coin as to whether she brings a change of clothing so she can sneak into a movie in the afternoon or go and have a few drinks at her local and a bet on the nag's before she ponders what to cook for Phillip's dinner. After all there is a one chance in a million that he too could have had a stressful day and she is only too well aware that her likes to rush of out after his dinner of spare ribs, kidneys and onions to the local in Paddington in his Mini Minor where he plays in the local dart team; Its no secret that he's handy with his dart, I'll bet there's more than his team mates that will vouch for that. Yes he's been known to hit the bulls' eye quite a few times.

As soon as Phillip is out the door Liz kicks off the shoes, on go the slippers then pop goes the Gin bottle!

An English couple on holidays in Australia told me a friend of a friend who was close to one of the maids in waiting told them that the Queen likes to watch the soapies on TV while Philip is down the pub sticking his dart in.

Considering they don't share the same bedroom she's lucky she doesn't have to wait up for him to fall in the door roaring drunk like my poor old dad used to.

When the Gin bottle has had a good work out it is time for bed and a little prayer that tomorrow won't be as stressful. So their you have it now, unless Buckingham Palace writes to me confirming or denying Liz's daily itinerary I have to assume my assumptions are right.

No matter how ridiculous the Republic of Australia may sound I'm all for it even though the Aussies had a defeated referendum on this very same subject back in 1999, I'm hoping for a "yes" this time.

Again I ask how stupid is it to have a ruling monarch who lives half a world away and who only ever comes here every now and again for a hand wave. Nuts if you ask me; bring on the Republic!

You can put the kettle away now until we catch up again soon, don't forget to be good to those who love you.

Slainte from Downunder!