Jeff Caplan’s Minute of News: Why does King Charles look so miserable?
Dec 1, 2023, 7:31 PM
(AP Photo/Peter Dejong, Pool)
Editor’s note: This is an editorial piece. An editorial, like a news article, is based on fact but also shares opinions. The opinions expressed here are solely those of the author and are not associated with our newsroom.
For the life of me, I can’t understand why England’s King Charles is so eternally miserable.
True, he had to wait 70 years to wear the crown. But now that his wish is an entire country’s command, he’s an elderly fussbudget who’s constantly caught on hot mics grumbling or sniffing about this or that — all the while treating his lords a leapin’ and his maids a milking with utter disdain.
He’s worth billions. The royal jewels… are his jewels. There can be no better life yet he lives each day with a golden chip on his shoulder and a scowl. For goodness’ sake — this is a man who gets trumpets whenever he walks into a room!
Since King Charles is so miserable, and this is a sacrifice, I will offer to trade places and suffer in his stead. Don’t snicker!
When I’m king this is what I have to put up with, according to a new book from palace insiders.
The King will only sleep on 1000-thread count bedsheets — and throws tantrums if they’re only 800. He has a guy whose job is to pump out precisely one inch of toothpaste on the royal toothbrush each evening. The paste must come from a silver bottle emblazoned with the royal crest. According to the book, “Inside the Royal Family,” another servant irons his shoelaces. And he has custom toilet paper, for those moments when he’s seated on the … throne.
From here, it seems like a pretty good life. I could take a few speeches. Show up at charity events, and even manage a smile.
Because in return they press your pajamas and your alarm clock is a personal bagpiper outside your window. Maybe he’s miserable because there’s no snooze button. But I am willing to trade places.
Four chefs. Eight butlers… three maids… five valets … 28 people paid to make him happy. And he’s sour as a pickle.