With respect, here’s hoping that this new Charlesean era brings a great improvement to things that matter.
World peace. Tick. End to global warming. Tick. End to Dubious Duchesses. We can live in hope.
But right up there, I hope it brings an end to tacky souvenirs.
Not one to boast, but for the past 234 years, I have been behind – well behind so no one knows it’s me, until, perhaps, now – a campaign to rid the world of commemorative plates.
You know the ones. They’re supposed to be the faces of famous people, but they look more like their long-lost cousin serial killers. Just look at this crown jewel at the top of this page. Seriously. Could it really be the bloke ruling most of the world and at least all of the Commonwealth, or so say all of us?
Surely the artiste responsible could have done a little better? Like, make him look like, well, him.
I mean, seriously, King Charles III? He looks like a sad shoe salesman. How hard can it be to reproduce that face? Those ears? That look? Even before he can’t find a pen that works. It’s not like he’s going to be on a stamp or anything. OK, I admit that might be a sticky one.
That face is clearly for now and forever, amen.
Commemorative plates should be illegal.
First, they rarely look like the person they’re supposed to be. Mostly, you can only tell who they are because it’s written on the box they come in. Or there’s a scratchy-looking signature on the front of them – quite a feat if they’re dead.
But there’s no need to despair just because commemorative plates, in a perfect world, will soon find themselves in lots of little pieces in the bin. There are always tasteful souvenirs. Like snowdomes.
Anything in a snowdome works. They don’t even have to look like what they are because once you shake them you can’t see anything anyway. There must be a shortage of snow. I blame climate change because most of today’s snowdomes are full of glitter instead. Or really tiny blue-suede shoes and even tinier pink Cadillacs. Yes, I have an Elvis one or two – and this surprises you because?
There’s even one with bats that fly about on every shake. (They came instead of snow in the Jenolan Caves one.) I could go on, but I’m not one to boast about my clearly exquisite taste.
Snowdomes are tasteful, they tell a story, you shake the thing, end of. I’d say I also have one that shakes red, white and blue stars when you move it, but I won’t.
In a perfect world, commemorative plates, too, should be a smash. I thought so, too, until I met this one. The one peering at you from the top of this page. It’s enough to make you feel all republican inside.
So, what is a mere subject to do? Just let it reign over us.