Andrew Mountbatten-Windsor
Welcome! As promised, this week I’m venturing into wholly unchartered territory by publishing something on this site that’s entirely fresh and original. It’s my attempt to reward you for your support and loyalty.
Presumably, you are all totally familiar with my book, ‘Two Ruddy Ducks and a Partridge on a Pear Tree’, which is, of course, available in all good bookshops and Amazon at the giveaway price of £9.99. You will therefore know that the book is a collection of precisely 100 letters, written by a Mr Mortimer Merriweather, to various important individuals and organisations with mostly daft ideas, all of which are to do with golf.
Switching effortlessly from golf to cricket, I’m now, as it were, taking guard, as I seek the second hundred. Whether I ever make it that far is very much open to doubt but the attempt should, I hope, be entertaining regardless of whether ‘Two Ruddy Ducks and a Partridge of a Pear Tree – Volume 2’ ever reaches the 18th green.
Dear King,
Forgive the rather informal address but I couldn’t be bothered with all that ‘majesty’ and ‘your royal highness’ malarkey. Anyway, had I tried to be more formal, chances are I would have got it horribly wrong and inadvertently caused offence and irreparably damaged my chances of a knighthood for services to golf. On that subject, I hope you don’t mind me mentioning that, like you, I shall be 78 later this year and so time is running out, if you know what I mean (hint).
Anyway, from my chances of being knighted to a subject of which I suspect you might be growing a tad weary … your younger brother, Andrew (formerly, HRH Prince Andrews but now just plain old Andrew Mountbatten-Windsor). Although losing the HRH must have been something of a blow for a former prince, he has at least got a hyphen. But what a monumental prick he’s turned out to be! Perhaps you sensed something was amiss when you were growing up but, although I’ve always thought he was a bit of a twit, the monumental scale of his stupidity is quite astounding. You could say Andrew put the nob into noble.
That’s enough. I’m principally writing to float an idea that will not only give him something to do, but will also offer him a real chance of redemption. Sadly, because of his peculiar upbringing, there aren’t many useful things he can actually do. But, and this is extremely relevant, he can play golf.
Seeing one is so busy ruling the UK, you can be forgiven for not knowing that next year the Ryder Cup, a biennial golf match between Europe and the USA, is to be staged in Ireland, which used to be part of the UK but isn’t any longer. Anyway, the very important job of European captain is up for grabs. Although I suspect that Andrew wouldn’t be terribly good at it, he can’t do worse than Sir Nick Faldo who was absolute garbage back in 2008.
Apart from making a couple of speeches, at which Andrew should be experienced if nothing else, and riding around in a buggy looking confident, there’s really very little to do. The Yanks, who love a Royal and are, depending upon which state you’re in, seemingly more relaxed about under-age sex than we are, will probably warm to him. And if, as seems very likely, Europe win, Andrew will be heralded a hero in this country and will doubtless go down in history as an inspirational leader rather than a sexual deviant and despicable paedophile.
Loyally Yours,
Mortimer Merriweather