Dialogue: In a twist over the royal pretzel binge

By JOE BENNETT

News that the heir-but-two to the throne of Great Britain and Northern Ireland lost consciousness during a late-night pretzel-bingeing session at an exclusive private party has come as a shock to his future subjects.

"It's shocking," said a future subject yesterday. "I know that deep down he's just flesh and blood like all of us, but still I never expected the heir-to-the-throne-but-two to get involved with, well, pretzels. You wouldn't read about it."

"You will," said concerned reporters who had flocked to St James's Palace despite the pubs being open.

In reply to questions about the implications for national security, a spokesman from the palace's media relations department said that the heir-to-the-throne-but-two had lost consciousness for only a few seconds.

"How did he know?" asked a concerned reporter.

The spokesman replied that the heir-to-the-throne-but-two had been brought round by the noise of the royal corgis eating the remains of the pretzels.

"He owes his life to those dogs," said the spokesman, "or at least we feel that would be a suitably sentimental angle for a responsible press to follow.

"Furthermore," the spokesman added, "the heir-to-the-throne-but-two noticed that the famously gluttonous corgis were less than one-third through the pretzels, from which he astutely deduced that he could not have been out for long."

Since the shocking binge incident the heir-to-the-throne-but-two has been taken by his father to a rehabilitation centre to see for himself the dangers of addiction.

He was apparently deeply affected by one inmate who had previously held a position similar to his own but had developed, with disastrous consequences, an addiction to young female interns.

He now cut a pathetic figure, ignored by the media and entirely dependent on his wife.

Asked if the police had been notified of the pretzel incident, the spokesperson pointed out that although it was an offence to supply pretzels to minors, it was no offence for minors to consume pretzels on private premises.

"Besides," added the spokesman, "the heir-to-the-throne-but-two passed out only because he ignored his wise old mother's advice always to chew pretzels thoroughly before swallowing. At no time was the realm under threat of nuclear attack."

To inquiries about the heir-to-the-throne-but-two's mental and physical condition after the binge session, the spokesperson said that he had been examined by his personal physician ("Spelling?" shouted concerned reporters. "D-o-c-t-o-r," said the spokesman. "Thank you," shouted concerned reporters) and the personal physician had pronounced him to be in the peak of physical condition with both a pulse and blood pressure and only a minor abrasion on the left cheek as a result of his fall.

In an effort to make light of the tragedy, said the spokesman, he was prone to making spectacularly bad jokes to concerned reporters, but this symptom was likely to disappear over time.

The headmaster of the heir-to-the-throne-but-two's exclusive private school (motto: "If you ask what the fees are, you aren't the sort of parent we want") said that pretzels were an ever-present threat in our society and that every parent dreaded discovering that their own child had become involved with them.

"Royalty does not grant immunity," he added pithily, going on to explain that the heir-to-the-throne-but-two had been under considerable stress recently.

Apart from the usual pressures of royal birth he had been studying for an exam in English, a subject he found particularly challenging. At the same time he had just started a course in international relations, a subject in which he had had no previous grounding, and which he tended to see mainly in terms of the Wild West.

The headmaster went on that there was no question of expulsion since the pretzel incident had taken place in the holidays and, therefore, was the responsibility of the royal family, though of course if there was any suggestion of pretzel abuse during term time, the heir-to-the-throne-but-two would be subject like any other pupil to urine tests with only a six-month warning.

He then went on to make an impassioned plea for restraint on the part of the media, reminding them that the young man in question had never been truly elected into his unenviable position, and that like all young men he was a jack-the-lad who felt the need to flirt with danger.

He begged that this single error of judgment should not be turned into a media circus.

"That'll be the day," said a concerned reporter, to general assent, from his trapeze.