The Judge RANTS!
I'm sorry to be a pooper on all those street parties and triumphant marches which are spontaneously breaking out all over Greater Gammonia following the Ukanian Supreme Court's unanimous declaration that Al DePiffle is a lying toerag (a fact of which some of us could have assured them over two decades ago), but can someone tell me what the hell difference it is going to make?
As others have pointed out, all that this means is that the same lame parliament which hasn't been able to make a decision on the matter of Ukania's national self-immolation in over three years will be re-convened to spend another three weeks - or three months - doing exactly the same again as the precipice does its best Birnam Wood impersonation and moves ever closer.
The thought that Johnson might be the first to be tossed over the edge brings a moment of light relief, but only a moment. The fustercluck we have been witnessing since the middle of 2016 will not only continue, but is likely to increase its momentum and its intensity. Parliament will either vote (finally) to implement the agreement blessed by St. Teresa Of The Little Competence; or it will merely delay the inevitable with the consent of a continent which has reached the end of its patience with its preeningly arrogant semi-detached member; or there will be another general election.
If this last, then it will - in keeping with a time when everything seems to change by the minute whilst staying essentially the same - end either with another inconclusive result, or we will see the coming to power of a coalition of the hard right (since the parliamentary Conservative Party is now the preserve of people who would have been thrown out of the Party even in Thatcher's day for their frothing extremism; it's as if the ghosts of David Evans, Peter Bruinvels (*), Anthony Beaumont-Dark and Teddy Taylor had been re-activated as incubi or djinn to take over what passes for the soul of the Party today; and that a substantial proportion of the Party's supporters in 'the countreh' are in favour of an electoral pact with FarageCo™).
And please don't give me the false outrage about how Boris (as the BBC almost always calls him in their customarily rigorous fashion) and Jacob the Lounging Lizard 'lied to the Queen'. Shock! Horror! Probe!
Two things here: firstly, how can we take seriously the notion that supposedly rational people are utterly bouleversÚ by the knowledge that two individuals who have schemed and plotted - sometimes in meticulous detail - their rise to the top of that sewage outflow called 'British politics' should be guilty of concerted and consolidated untruths? It is in the very nature of the beasts in question, so pearls can not be clutched without the clutchers looking utterly unworldly or - to be less kind but more accurate - fucking dense.
The second ridiculous element of the tra-la-la is the idea that Elizabeth Saxe-Coburg-Gotha-von-Battenburg needed to be lied to in order to rubber-stamp Johnson's manoeuvre. For not only is the notion that someone who has been Head of State for nearly seven decades would not have a clear knowledge of everything that was going on unspeakably silly, the idea that she was compelled by constitutional proprieties alone to agree to something which - for all that we know about her and her family's extreme conservatism - she would have been firmly minded to support in any case goes straight through na´vety (or self-delusion) and out the other side.
For the myth of the monarch being in any way 'impartial' or 'above politics', which has long been touted (in the face of obvious evidence to the contrary) as one of the prime advantages of having a Head of State who holds his or her highly-remunerative position on the basis of which uterus they emerged from, rather than having one of those nasty plebs like they do in inferior countries, is and always has been precisely that; a myth.
Further proof of this emerged only a few days ago, when that failed PR hack David Cameron published a volume of his auto-hagiography (which, I am disappointed to note, was not called A Poke In A Pig), in which he described how he got Mrs S-C-G-von-B to interfere in the indpendence referendum in Scotland in 2014, and made sure that the adoring scribes of the scum press and the State Broadcaster alike were close at hand to hear Betty's verbal 'raised eyebrow' just a few days before a vote which looked at that time to be developing not necessarily to the Empire's advantage. This was always likely to be just enough to sway the result through an assiduously cultivated culture of unthinking deference which would be condemned by many of those responding positively to Barbie Windsor's meddling were it to be shown to a mere mortal dictator amongst the heathen lands.
Here stands the incontrovertible truth about the Greater-England monarchy: it is a power structure entrenched over generations by means of manipulating events to its purposes, and whose machinations have been all too often masked by the cloying, clotted deference of the political and media classes who feed so avidly (yet often so delicately!) off it, constantly pushing the fairy story that the monarch is some sort of na´f who merely does his or her duty to 'the nation', so that even the humblest peasant who is being starved into submission by his owner or his landlord feels that he owes his primary allegiance to the very apex of the system which fucks over his life, his family's life and his community's life down the same number (or greater, given the extreme discrepancies in life expectancy) of generations.
It is why no meaningful change can ever take place from within the Ukanian system of rule, for all the radical noises and pious hopes for such change. And that, more than any other, is why the monarchical system (and its convenient fiction that the government of the day operates as a democratic expression or amelioration of it) must fall.
But they won't. In a polity where, with increasing vigour, the flag will be waved and where the trumpets will blare (and the Blair will trumpet), not even the news about Andrew Windsor's possible involvement with one of the most notorious serial molestors of all time is likely to dislodge it. Only events beyond its control are likely to do that.
As you were...
(*) I'm aware that - of the Four Coarsemen I have named - Bruinvels is not currently dead, merely un-so. I am happy to point this out.