#hitchens

I have one consistency, which is being against the totalitarian - on the left and on the right. The totalitarian, to me, is the enemy; the one that's absolute, the one that wants control over the inside of your head, not just your actions and your taxes.

“I didn’t make any jokes when the Queen died. I maintained a strict silence. . . as I tried to sneak back out of her bedroom.

(…)

Famously, the public drew strength from the Royal family staying in London during World War Two. Presumably, they thought the Luftwaffe might hold back if there was a risk they’d bomb their own.

(…)

Richard III in many ways set the tone for what would become the modern, British monarchy: a child-sacrificing cult of violent, ruthless ambition which the British public is happy to tolerate in exchange for a long bank holiday.

(…)

Henry VIII is one of the few husbands Johnny Depp can feel superior to. Only England can watch a man abuse six different women and think “Maybe every school child should learn a rhyme to remember how he did it.” Henry also invented modern divorce and so it’s his fault you’re watching this at home, alone and unloved.

(…)

Every royal coat of arms is richly symbolic. For example, before he became King, Prince Charles’ crest showed a lion mounting another lion while a horse looks patiently on. Whereas the Duke of York’s shows a lion paying twelve millions pounds to a sex-trafficked lion cub that the lion claims it never met. And from Queen Elizabeth I, today’s royals learned a valuable lesson: understand your own symbolic function. Elizabeth, in a time of conflict between Catholicism and Protestantism, understood that by presenting herself as a sort of Virgin Mary incarnate, she could dilute those tensions. And indeed, she went on to shape the worship that took place in the Anglican Church, creating a sort of Catholicism for pussies.

(…)

Victoria had her first sight of Scotland after arriving by ship at Leith. If ever a four-foot-eleven woman with nine kids and clinical depression was going to feel at home, it was going to be in Leith.

(…)

With conditions miserable for many Brits, Queen Victoria did the obvious and spread that misery around the world, much like a U2 tour.

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Personally, I try to deal with the injustice of the British monarchy in my own, small way; giving swans bread soaked in LSD to try and liberate them from their mental shackles.

(…)

Conspiracy theories about the royal family being lizards disguises the fact that they’re something even worse: a slightly dim German family to whom we’ve inexplicably given billions of pounds.

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I used to be outraged by the British class system, how it destroys lives. Then I bought a ‘Live Laugh Love’ magnet for my fridge. Now it all just washes over me. The monarchy is ending. When that happens, let’s not be bitter. Let’s get out in the streets and raise a bottle to them. . . filled with petrol and a burning rag.”

“Is the Coronation going to be a flop? It is impossible to be sure as we know so little about it, but far too many of the signs are bad. How can things go well when the official food for the occasion is a sort of vegetarian flan?

Will our new King be dedicating his life to God, as his mother did, or to Net Zero, as he seems to want to do? How Christian will the ceremony be? I am all for welcoming other faiths, but it is our Christian laws, customs, culture and civilisation which have drawn so many to come to live here. And I believe it is our Anglican settlement which creates the tolerant space in which other beliefs rightly flourish among us.

Few people realise that we are the last nation in the world to have such a ceremony. The other remaining kings and queens of Europe have low-key inaugurations, about as majestic as the induction of a new head teacher.

Ours is a ritual of memory, power, loyalty and acclaim, stretching back a thousand years into the very origins of Christian Europe. And if you read the order of service from the 1953 event, or watch the film of it, you will get a strong sense that the monarchy of the time was not ashamed to exist.

(…)

When the Queen died last year, I was moved enough to queue for hours to see her lying-in-state. But I have never forgiven the authorities for the muffled, underpowered ceremonies surrounding her death. This was the most important death since that of Winston Churchill in 1965 – which was marked by a great triumph worthy of the Roman Empire and ending with crowds lining the railway tracks as he was carried home on a steam train to the heart of the countryside of the nation he saved.

(…)

Well, I shall never be a Royal adviser. Charles long ago decided I was unacceptable and cancelled a meeting he had originally wanted to have with me, because his politically correct aides warned him against it. But if I had gone, I should have said to him, and say again now, that it is no use trying to please or placate the enemies of the Crown. Do what you like. Submit to taxes, embrace political correctness, wear a mask and sit alone at your own spouse’s low-key funeral, cut back on the pomp, sideline your embarrassing relatives. It will do no good.

“  Before I explain what the "worse" was, I must purge my memory of a story that still plagues me. I possess a photograph of myself, from December of 1977, shaking the hand of General Jorge Rafaél Videla, who was then the dictator of Argentina. The picture was taken in the Casa Rosada, that pink presidential palace in Buenos Aires from which Juan and Evita Perón had once harangued the masses. General Videla is now under house arrest in his own country for, among other things, trading the babies of the tortured rape victims who were held in his own secret prison. You might want to run your eye back over that last sentence and appreciate every stage of it. The Macbeth family had a notoriously hard time getting the blood off their hands, or shaking the impression that their hands were still reeking. To this day I wish that I had stiffly sat down for that interview without the polite grip-and-grin that I gave to Videla.