OPINION: King Charles’ coronation had people the world over debating many unexpected things, from the palatability of broad beans to the inability of nobles to deploy mothballs.
By the time people got around to asking, “And what the heck is Nick Cave doing there?”, the supposedly burning question, whither the monarchy, barely got a look-in. Avowed and lofty republicans swarmed from afar for the crowning glory, none exactly underdressed.
Equally oddly, broad beans, which feature in the official coronation dish, were the perfect double metaphor for the occasion. They taste horribly bitter to many people and this can only be ameliorated by double-podding. This is an absolute faff, unless one has the staff to do this for one. Happily, when one’s new gig is kinging, one absolutely has.
Republicans were disappointed no toffs appeared in tatters, after the Lord Great Chamberlain telegraphed his dismay that so many ancient coronation gowns were now moth-eaten. Luckily, one has staff for that, too.
Perhaps the biggest coronation surprise was a motif of what might politely be termed regifting. Guests at lavish events often get expensive goody bags, but with so much colonial angst swirling around, it seemed possible some dignitaries would expect to return home with actual pillage. The former empire was well represented among the guests, but there was an incipient mood of: congratulations, and all that, but can we have our stuff back now?
It started weeks ago with various countries muttering about restoration of their jewels, notably Indians reclaiming the Koh-i-Noor diamond. Other Indians, however, professed it a greater insult that their taonga was being excluded from the ceremony, colonial angst be blowed.
Then Scottish nationalists railed at the temporary loan-back of their destiny icon, the Stone of Scone – and not just because many Brits pronounce it as though it were part of a Devonshire tea rather than rhyming with “spoon”. The great Perthshire slab is believed to have been the actual throne of Edward I in the 1300s, but has an otherwise mysterious history, having been smuggled in and out of hiding, including by Scottish students who once stealthily repatriated it o’er the border.
To console republicans, folklore persists that it’s not the Stone of Destiny, but one of umpteen that canny Scots have been knockin’ oot for centuries.
Then there’s the question to which American President Joe Biden on his recent Irish visit gave rise: the country of origin. What if Britons’ furious picking apart of Biden’s family tree to claim him as part-English prompts vengeful European Union folk to do the same with Charles’ pedigree? His family descends directly from German aristocracy and his dad was a prince of Greece and Denmark. What if these three EU powers demanded a time-share of “their” king? And just wait for the new Greek ultimatum: give us back the Elgin Marbles or we’ll offer Spare Harry and his sweaty Uncle Andrew honorary kingships over here.
Still, the most remarkable regifting could be of the British prime ministership, after a former candidate for the job was a huge coronation hit. As Lord President of the Privy Council, House of Commons leader Penny Mordaunt was tasked with holding aloft heftily bejewelled swords for much of the ceremony. This she did with such an elegant display of upper-body strength, her name is back on the “next prime minister” hit parade – and doubtless the Game of Thrones’ casting list, too. She forbore to lift the Stone of Scone for an encore.
To think former PM Liz Truss gave her friend and rival the House job to lower her profile.
As for Nick Cave, we know he doesn’t “believe in an interventionist God” but he was visibly stoked to pretend to witness one create a new king. Republicans must be spitting.
