A weekly column reproduced from the Bristol Evening Post
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Student life for Willie boy will be a world away from that of your average spotty 19-year-old gimp. He won’t ever experience the seemingly bottomless pot of lentil curry or the flat so filthy that you could use a pig as an air freshener.
And remember those fridge wars? I bet William Windsor never has to write his name on a half-empty tin of Heinz spaghetti bolognese. Or count his cornflakes in case someone else has had an illicit bowlful.
And what’s he doing there anyway? I quite understand that these days, any kid who can spell his or her own name qualifies for three years of drinking cheap beer in the Union bar at the taxpayers’ expense, but how do you train up a future King?
Do they have courses in how to address inane questions to bored factory workers? Can you do a degree in arseing about on a horse?
Let’s teach the boy stuff that’ll actually come in handy once he’s on the throne. Like how to spend millions of pounds of other people’s money without blushing.
As one of a series of knee-jerk reactions to the New York massacre, NuLabour are now considering the introduction of identity cards. How’s that going to work then?
Will Mr bin Laden have one with “Terrorist” written on it? Do they suppose that an organisation capable of simultaneously hijacking four passenger flights won’t have access to a John Bull printing kit and a photocopier?
Coming soon, Jack Straw reveals a revolutionary new chocolate teapot. It’s enough to make a cat laugh.
* The views of Mr Beelzebub are purely personal and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of the Editor or staff of this newspaper, of anyone wondering what Macy Gray was doing in a boxing ring on Saturday night, of anyone who doesn’t doubt that Maxine is now pregnant after her fling with the Doc, or of anyone who’s been to a Harvester lately.
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