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So unless you’ve been living under a rock this week (which I wish I had been because I imagine it’s fairly shady under there), the massive story dominating almost every reliable news source has been Kate Middleton doing something completely extraordinary – she gave birth to another human being. All sarcasm aside, as a royalist and all-round lover of the house of Windsor, I’ve actually been glued to the news and was sorely tempted to put a tenner on the tiniest royal family member being named George. However, as is the British fashion, miserable gits nationwide have complained tirelessly about how sick they are of the royal offspring.
Well, let me tell you this. Historically, the birth of Prince George Alexander Louis of Cambridge is pretty much a big deal. Bearing in mind both Wills and Harry were born before me so I have no actual memory of seeing a royal birth before now, my generation have grown up with the princes. As a result, I’m fairly interested in their lives, to the point where I attended a Royal Wedding party and I dream of marrying the ginger prince one day.
Personal lifelong dreams aside, the birth of our beloved Prince George means that there are currently three generations of direct heirs to the throne of Britain – an event which hasn’t occurred in over a century. With the recent discovery of the crafty throne-snatching Richard III under a random car park, I feel like we all need to watch Prince Harry carefully in case he gets any bright ideas about shoving Baby G in the Tower of London.
If you’re social network sassy and have a Twitter account, you might have seen the hash tag #BornEqual roaming around the trending topics like a wild beast. The born equal debate basically discusses that idea that the royal family are born into a position of great power and privilege that they apparently don’t deserve. The International Business Times quote one advocate of Born Equal, who boldly declares “Here is a new baby whose career, religion, even personal relationships, have already been mapped out. Meanwhile the British people are told in 2013 who their head of state will be in 2063 and beyond. No debate, no discussion. Certainly no vote.”
Granted, we don’t vote for our monarch, but I find the notion that we common people have “no vote” amusing. We’ve proven before that if a monarch gets on our nerves, we know how to rebel in style. Oliver Cromwell anyone? As a strong, civilised, modern nation, it seems fair to say that if George does a terrible job and decides he wants to invade Mars (well I don’t know what we’ll be doing in 2063 do I?) – I am pretty positive that we will have no qualms about re-considering whether we want our royals. The royal family are no longer the terrifying, omnipotent creatures that can send you to the chopping block if you talk back.
We are, for all intents and purposes, a democratic society. We do get a say in things, for the most part, and let’s be brutally honest: if you truly believe that the likes of David Cameron or Nick Clegg ‘earned’ their positions for being hard-working, caring souls dedicated to the good of the entire nation, you are out of your mind. The sad matter is, nobody can ever truly be ‘born equal’. Our society is based on the structures of hierarchy, class and celebrity. If you find yourself in the fortunate position of knowing the right people, you’re an excellent networker, or even if you’re born in the right place, you will find yourself being offered advantages and opportunities that others might not receive. Equality is a concept which will never truly be achieved. Unless the robots take over, of course.
The birth of a new life is a magical occasion which deserves to be celebrated, although perhaps not to the point where we have half a dozen news cameras fixed on a closed door, even I found that tedious and annoying. I hear the cries of ‘what about all the other tiny humans born today?’ and I internally roll my eyes. At the end of the day my dear Republican friends, there is so much grief, misery and suffering in the world – how about we all just pipe down and enjoy one of the few occasions that bind us together as a nation? Maybe you’ll even get a holiday out of it to go and enjoy this out-of-character scorching English summer. Which, might I add, would have been perceived as God’s blessing a few centuries ago.