Paul Powlesland takes his voice and a blank piece of paper to protest the ascension of King Charles III and what he sees as unjust arrest of some anti-monarchy protesters. Photo / Cherie Howie
Just so you know, not everyone's stoked about the new King - and it has nothing to do with a mini-tanty over a leaky pen.
Queues to walk past his late mother's coffin at Westminster Hall had stretched to almost 7km by early Friday (NZT), and King Charles III himself has this week been warmly greeted by people across the United Kingdom - including Kiwi Danni Booth, after he clasped both hands around hers outside Buckingham Palace hours after Queen Elizabeth's death and thanked her for coming.
"His mum had just passed away," says Booth of the encounter.
But while they're utterly overwhelmed in number by those supporting the monarchy and its chain of succession, dissent is out there.
"Not my King," shouts barrister Paul Powlesland as he walks past the Sir Winston Churchill statue in Westminster's Parliament Square on a hot, busy weekday.
He's holding a white, A3-sized piece of paper above his head. It has nothing written on it.
Most passersby carry their own blank slates, steadfastly giving no attention to Powlesland's cry as they stride by, but one man's interest is piqued.
He's busy arguing with a cop, claiming another asked for his details, and wanting to know what might get him arrested after he decided to take a break from his private practice nearby and protest freedom of speech among the city workers, tourists and monarchists gathering a few steps from Westminster Abbey, where the Queen will be farewelled overnight Monday (NZT).
Powlesland is in full swing with the officer, but it's baking hot and I haven't got all day.
When he takes a breath, I coax him away to a shady spot below the statue of another former British Prime Minister, David Lloyd George, to find out what this is all about.
He's never been one, but neither was he a republican - until a few days ago, he says.
"I was genuinely mostly ambivalent before. I was intellectually against the monarchy but, practically, thought it was okay before this week.
"But now I'm a republican because of this whole charade. Using the tragic death of an old lady to bolster your power as a new King is actually a bit weird."
Say what?
His beef is the arrests of "fellow countrymen for daring to use peaceful freedom of speech to disagree with [the monarchy]", Powlesland says.
There was the young woman arrested for breach of the peace outside St Giles' Cathedral in Edinburgh on Sunday, before the Queen's cortege arrived in the city, after she held up a sign saying "f*** imperialism, abolish monarchy".
"That one had the f word in it, which was slightly more dubious," he concedes.
And on the same day, Symon Hill was arrested - and later "de-arrested" - by police after he shouted "Who elected him?" when he came across a proclamation ceremony for King Charles in Oxford the same day.
The 45-year-old told the Mirror he couldn't stomach it when he heard a speaker tell the crowd to accept the King as their "only lawful and rightful Liege Lord".
Thames Valley Police confirmed Hill had been arrested, then de-arrested, and was "engaging with us voluntarily" as they investigated a public order offence, the Mirror reported.
The final indignity was hearing a woman had been moved by police for holding a sign saying "not my King" outside Buckingham Palace, Powlesland says.
The woman wasn't arrested, but moved away from in front of access gates, Scotland Yard told the Evening Standard.
For the barrister in Powlesland, the three incidents combined in his mind to appear like "a real unexpected crackdown on dissent", prompting him to take his blank sheet of paper and his voice to the streets.
"I genuinely thought freedom of speech here was a bit stronger than this, and it feels like they're using the mourning period for the Queen to clamp down on anyone who doesn't agree with having a King.
"Which is a fair enough sentiment to hold."
Even protest has its limits though, as he walks away, blank paper stretched above his head, his lips forming the catchcry of a plucky few, Powlesland has one eye on the crowd and another on the hands of Big Ben looming above.
It's not easy going against the tide during a national, perhaps even international, grief-a-thon, or squeezing a spot of protesting into a busy workday.
"I've actually just come down briefly during a break in work. I'll be going back soon - if I don't get arrested."