Unofficial Royalty

It seems that Great Britain needs a royal jester. To paraphrase an article in The Times of London earlier this month, English Heritage, conservator of British historic sites, is advertising for someone to be the first Court Jester since 1649.

The qualifications? "Must be mirthful and prepared to work summer weekends in 2005. Must have own outfit (with bells). Bladder on stick provided if required." Auditions were held a week or so later. The British are serious about this.

The article continued: The court jester's position died along with King Charles I, who was executed by Oliver Cromwell's supporters in 1649. The monarchy was restored eleven years later, but the position of jester did not return. "It is about time we had a jester again," said Tracy Borman, the agency's director of education, events and outreach. "It is one of those roles that fell by the wayside when Cromwell made Britain a republic, but there is no reason not to bring it back now."

So I said to myself, that article just begs for comment! Because as August 31 nears, haven't enough trees been put to death to provide words about Diana? I believe so. I would just like to echo, as a brief tribute to her seven years on, what the writer Alexander Woollcott said of the actress Nora Bayes, at her funeral service: "Whoever is with her right now is having a good time."

Must...write...about...something else. Aha, in the nick of time, news of a new Court Jester, ringing his (or her) jolly bells. What else but the return of yet another beloved British royal institution, like garden parties or Swan Upping, could lift us all from the tragedy of late August?

Well, we have a jester here at etoile, and a very good one too! And now, apparently, an official royal one is needed, with not a minute to lose. Royalty needs a bit of unstuffing. Pomposity must be pricked with a pin. Whoopee cushions must be sat upon. Rude noises must be emitted. Laughter must peal. The world, and the Crown, have been Too Serious lately, as Monty Python's Colonel might say.

Yes, restoration of the office of Court Jester implies that a King or Queen needs one. Needs a good laugh. Fair enough. Though Mark Twain said of heaven, "There's no laughter there, because it isn't needed,"  it's definitely needed by a monarch of the earthly realm.

The burden of royal duty has weighed heavily on many a royal shoulder. In The Autobiography of Henry VIII, a historical novel by Margaret George, written as if by the King himself, his jester Will Somers, the wisest of fools, takes a few turns as narrator, alternately laughing with and at him.

One doesn't laugh at the current monarch, of course. One doesn't need to. Her family provides enough material for a slough of royal comedians. But Elizabeth could probably use a good jest or two, after hours. And the Court Fool's job description - to amuse the monarch - can also be construed to mean that he or she must get as good as he/she gives. In other words, become the butt as well as the ad-libber of royal jokes.

Now, who is to sling those royal arrows, and then present his or her backside as the target of royal darts aimed right back at them? Fill in the name of your own candidate here. Tony Blair? George W. Bush? Too easy. Likewise the British Cabinet and Parliament, the American Cabinet and Congress, the Australians and Canadians and all the Commonwealth, all the satirists of the Royal Family, all politicians, party hacks, republicans, etc. Simply put, many are self-parodies: jokes themselves. We already laugh with and about them. So, no doubt, does the Queen.

Perhaps she needs a genuinely funny person, to distract her and let her say, with tears in her eyes, "We are amused!" A John Cleese, a Billy Connolly, a David Letterman would therefore fit the royal bill. Or perhaps a comic writer, with a style like those of P.G. Wodehouse or the late Douglas Adams. Or an acrobat, who can turn handsprings before the throne and do fake tumbles on the red carpet; whose slapstick physical comedy would bring a much-needed grin to the careworn royal visage. No, Paul Burrell, Kitty Kelley and Andrew Morton need not apply.

Likewise, the Court Jester must be able to make the rest of us laugh. To satirize the royals without trotting out all the clichés. To give them a gentle wink wink, nudge nudge. To caricature them without malice aforethought; to draw royal cartoons we appreciate and treasure.

A tough job, that. Good luck to the new Court Jester. Here's hoping whoever cuts the deck as Elizabeth's royal joker will be an ace, in spades.

And a final note to the lucky winner of the royal jester lottery. Perhaps his or her output might best be given to the monarch via e-mail or videotape, lest disillusion or even ill-humor follow. Because one may, in the words of writer A.N. Wilson, "belong to the band of fairly unshakeable monarchists, but I sustain my faith by never wanting to meet any of the Royal Family."

Let the royal laughter ring out!

Addendum: The Etoile e-mail provider recently changed, and we who did not save our e-mails elsewhere lost them all. Richard and Stephen, I particularly regret it on your behalf! Anyone who sent me e-mail in the last month or so, it's gone. If you would like to see it featured in an upcoming Royal Mail readers' column, please resend it. I promise I will save it to my personal e-mail. Thanks, MW

- Mel Whitney
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