Five Humorous Observations Before We Begin
- The royal family has survived wars, abdications, divorces, and Netflix. What finally broke them was a guest who stayed too long after tea — and apparently emailed Jeffrey Epstein about it.
- British diplomacy once ruled half the globe. Now it specializes in not making eye contact at family functions and strategically repositioning to the other wing of the castle.
- Some families argue about politics at Christmas. The Windsors argue about who is allowed within a 200-yard ceremonial radius — enforced with the precision of a NATO perimeter.
- “Keep Calm and Carry On” has officially been downgraded to “Keep Calm and Pretend You Never Met These People.” The commemorative mugs are already at the gift shop.
- Nothing says constitutional monarchy like drafting a seating chart with the precision of a NATO missile defense system — and a separate one for who definitely isn’t invited.
Sarah Ferguson Officially Crowned Royal Family’s Most Unwanted Houseguest
LONDON, somewhere between Buckingham Palace and the emotional equivalent of a locked pantry door. In what palace aides describe as “a necessary clarification of hospitality parameters,” Sarah Ferguson has reportedly been elevated to a new ceremonial status: The Royal Family’s Most Unwanted Houseguest.
The position, while unofficial, comes with no tiara, no balcony access, and a firm understanding that tea will not be served. A palace-issued lanyard reading “PLEASE DO NOT APPROACH” is believed to be in prototyping.
According to sources who whisper like professionals, the decision follows months of what insiders describe as “strategic avoidance operations.” One senior aide, who asked to remain anonymous because they still enjoy employment, explained that palace logistics now resemble air traffic control. “We have to know who is landing, who is taxiing, and who needs to circle indefinitely.” The aide paused, added, “Fergie is in a holding pattern over the Atlantic.”
The monarchy, an institution older than most European plumbing, has faced many existential threats. Vikings. Cromwell. The invention of the camera. But nothing compares to the social minefield of modern family reunions, particularly when leaked Epstein emails start circulating at the breakfast table.
Monarchy’s New Motto: Keep Calm and Pretend You Never Met These People
There was a time when the empire stamped “Keep Calm and Carry On” across wartime posters. Today’s adaptation is subtler: Keep Calm and Pretend You Never Met These People. Available on tea towels. Sold out.
A palace consultant specialising in “interpersonal sovereignty management” confirmed the shift. “We are not erasing anyone,” she insisted. “We are merely acknowledging that some chapters are best left unread. Particularly the ones with footnotes referencing convicted sex offenders.”
The rebrand reflects a broader cultural trend. In an age of group chats muted indefinitely, the royal family has simply applied the same principle to bloodlines. The Queen’s Chamberlain is believed to have a dedicated “Do Not Invite” spreadsheet, formatted in tasteful gold.
An Ipswich-based polling firm conducted a survey of 1,042 Britons. Exactly 63.7 percent said they have at least one relative they would prefer to greet through frosted glass. Another 18 percent admitted they would support a national “Do Not Invite” registry if it came with commemorative mugs. The remaining 18.3 percent are believed to be that relative.
“It’s relatable,” said a sociology lecturer from Manchester. “The monarchy survives by appearing both elevated and painfully human. Nothing is more human than pretending not to see someone at a buffet.”
Prince William’s Most Bodily Honest Statement: “I Don’t Ever Want to See Her Face Again”
In what observers called a masterclass in physical diplomacy, Prince William reportedly delivered his most honest communication not through press release but through posture.
Eyewitnesses describe a reaction that was less statement and more full-body editorial. Shoulders tightened. Jaw set. The thousand-yard stare of a man who has memorised every exit in the room — and pre-booked the helicopter.
A lip-reading enthusiast from Surrey claimed the message was unmistakable: “I don’t ever want to see her face again.”
Now, to be clear, no official transcript exists. But body language analysts across daytime television agreed the gesture registered somewhere between “firm boundary” and “I will be in the other wing of the castle.” Specifically, the wing without functioning mobile reception.
One retired equerry described it as “the most decisive movement since someone declared independence from the colonies.” He did not specify which colonies. Historians are investigating.
There is something almost admirable about the clarity. In a world addicted to vague statements and therapeutic ambiguity, here was a prince whose body said what press secretaries often soften into six paragraphs of nothing.
Royal Family Drafts Official Protocol for People They Do Not Want in Their Orbit
Documents seen by absolutely no one but discussed by everyone suggest the palace has begun drafting a formal protocol titled: Guidelines for Individuals We Do Not Wish to Encounter at Garden Parties.
The draft reportedly includes:
- A 500-foot “ceremonial discretion buffer,” enforced by footmen trained in the subtle art of strategic furniture rearrangement.
- A polite but firm handshake duration cap of 1.2 seconds.
- Emergency phrases such as “Must speak to the Archbishop” and “Is that a corgi emergency?”
- A supplemental clause: “Under no circumstances shall the offending party be permitted near the commemorative biscuit tin.”
A former palace staffer described the policy as “NASA-level avoidance planning.” Satellite positioning. Rotational scheduling. The subtle art of turning down a corridor at precisely the right moment.
“Royal orbit management is delicate,” said a constitutional historian. “You cannot eject someone into space, but you can alter the gravitational pull.” He added that the palace has, in fact, looked into the space option.
The monarchy, after all, runs on choreography. Who stands where. Who waves when. Who does not appear at all. This last category now has its own sub-committee.
Sarah Ferguson’s New Title: Persona Non Grata of the United Kingdom
The phrase “persona non grata” once belonged to diplomats expelled after espionage scandals. It now applies to the most awkward RSVP in Britain — a woman whose Epstein emails went public in 2025 and whose ex-husband was arrested on his own birthday in February 2026, which really is the sort of thing that gets your invite permanently misplaced.
A pub patron in Leeds summed up public sentiment over crisps and lager. “Every family’s got one. Difference is, mine doesn’t come with heraldry.” His mate nodded, ordered another round, and suggested the heraldry would actually improve things.
To be fair, Ferguson remains a figure with her own supporters, charitable engagements, and public presence. She survived breast cancer in 2023 and melanoma in 2024, which is genuinely admirable. Unfortunately, surviving royal exclusion appears to be the one health challenge still on the horizon.
The monarchy has always understood symbolism. Crowns matter. Carriages matter. So does the quiet act of not sharing a balcony — or, as palace insiders now phrase it, “ensuring appropriate ceremonial adjacency.”
Cultural critics note that this episode reveals less about scandal and more about survival. Institutions persist by drawing lines, sometimes in ink, sometimes in frost, and occasionally in a formal 47-page protocol document stamped CONFIDENTIAL.
In the end, this is not a story about exile. It is a story about seating arrangements. About who stands beside whom when the cameras click. About whether the footman has been briefed.
A veteran royal correspondent reflected: “The Windsors do not shout. They adjust the guest list.”
And perhaps that is the final irony. For all the pageantry, the robes, the centuries of tradition, the British monarchy still grapples with the same eternal human problem: who gets invited back.
The empire may have shrunk. But the guest list remains mighty — and someone, somewhere in a palace corridor, is already updating the spreadsheet.
Auf Wiedersehen, amigo!
Alan Nafzger was born in Lubbock, Texas, the son Swiss immigrants. He grew up on a dairy in Windthorst, north central Texas. He earned degrees from Midwestern State University (B.A. 1985) and Texas State University (M.A. 1987). University College Dublin (Ph.D. 1991). Dr. Nafzger has entertained and educated young people in Texas colleges for 37 years. Nafzger is best known for his dark novels and experimental screenwriting. His best know scripts to date are Lenin’s Body, produced in Russia by A-Media and Sea and Sky produced in The Philippines in the Tagalog language. In 1986, Nafzger wrote the iconic feminist western novel, Gina of Quitaque. He currently lives in Holloway, North London. Contact: editor@prat.uk
