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Kate & Wills are having a baby.

Meanwhile in other news...

Mum-of-three dead from brain tumour three weeks after being told by Atos to find a job


Her dad Ian said: “Even though she told the ATOS assessor that she had the brain tumour, they started the process to get her back into work.
“She was going to appeal but then she became unwell and was admitted to the Western General.
“After two weeks we were told there was nothing they could do for her. She died at St Columba’s Hospice.
“Nobody could give us a reason as to why the tumour reappeared. But it seems so coincidental that something like this happened. It was such a shock to her system.”

http://www.leftfootforward.org/2013...weeks-after-being-told-by-atos-to-find-a-job/
 
Shit, can't cut and paste this from The Mirror for some reason, so link

Dear Royal Baby,
You’re not here yet, but welcome to the world anyway. Half the planet seems to be jammed up your mother’s fundament like gawping day-trippers who want to see what the Royal upholstery is like, so I suppose an introduction is necessary.

When you decide to make an appearance we won’t know anything about it until Mummy’s had a visit from the hairdresser and Daddy’s called the Queen on a special encrypted phone.

Then you’ll be displayed to the world’s media in roughly the same way Prometheus displayed fire he’d stolen from the gods, i.e. as though this were a world-changing event that had never happened before.

Somewhere between 700,000 and 800,000 babies are born in this country every year, and most of them don't get a £5,000-a-day entrée at the Lindo Wing.
They are very unlikely to get the attentions of two world-class obstetricians unless something has gone horribly wrong, and the world’s media would normally give a toss only if said baby was born on Christmas Day to a health tourist infected with the ebola virus.

But still, let’s not begrudge it. Some people are born lucky and you, my little scrap of squidgy red Churchillian stinkiness, are one of the luckiest of the lot.
You see for the first time in history it doesn’t matter whether you’re a boy or a girl.

Your ancestors variously murdered, rebelled, raped, married unwisely, torn the church asunder, warred, stabbed, infanticided and generally behaved very badly indeed purely over the gender of their children, and now thanks to a man called Nick Clegg you will be able to inherit an entirely theoretical set of powers you won’t be allowed to use regardless of your genitals.
Lucky you.

The rest of us have been able to inherit on that basis for centuries, but it’s nice that you lot have finally caught up.

Well, we think you will. Not all the countries you no longer rule have agreed on it yet, but they probably will and it probably won’t matter.

Anyway once you’ve appeared there’ll be a lot of talk about hair. If you’re blonde it’ll be Diana’s legacy, if you’re brunette it’ll be Kate’s luscious locks, and if you’re ginger it doesn’t really bear thinking about.

This doesn’t seem to stop even when Royals are in their 80s, so you might as well get used to it.

There is a basic problem with discussing your family, which is that they hate it and everyone else adores it. From the grimiest pub to the poshest dining table your life will be a topic of conversation until the day you die, with a thirst for detail that frankly the media can rarely supply.

Because of that, people fill in the gaps. By the time you hear these stories yourself you’ll probably barely recognise the Russian vice girl, the triple-barrelled chum or the drunken polo pony.

The only solution to embellishment is to supply the extra detail, but that’s a slippery slope. You could end up tweeting from your own coronation, and the archbishop would probably think it was rude.

My advice is to get a decent press officer, and change them once a year. Too long in the palace and they all start acting like they own the place.

At many points in your life someone will probably say that you’re ‘common’ because Mummy wasn’t Royal. This person is an idiot.

Mummy was raised in precisely the same way, at precisely the same sort of schools with the same sort of people who speak the same way and ski in the same places, as Daddy. Vera Duckworth she is not.

The chances are you’ll go to the same sort of schools with the same sort of people. Personally I’d love it if you went to a comp in knife-crazed Southwark for longer than the five minutes it takes to open a sports hall, but this is probably a faint hope.

Now listen. This is an important bit.

You are normal. If at any point as you grow up you doubt this, check your bumhole. If it’s still there, you’re normal.

The thing is that you’re going to have an abnormal life. You’ll have a childhood in which your first steps are likely to be recorded for a documentary and the family Christmas card will appear in the Daily Mirror.

Your teenage agonies – booze, boys, girls, whatever – will either be held entirely behind closed doors or, if you're anything like your Uncle Harry, will happen in Las Vegas with a cameraphone and naked woman.

Auntie Pippa will probably try to be photographed with you as often as possible, and you’ll look at her then-middle-aged bum and wonder what the fuss was all about.

Perhaps when you’re an adult you’ll be able to do something useful, like Daddy when he became a search and rescue pilot. If so, you won’t be allowed to do it for very long.

Or perhaps you’ll be like Mummy, who was so workshy the government really ought to have been cracking down on her.

Either way you’ll spend most of your life being judged on your hair and teeth, while at the same time no-one will mention how much you might look like a horse.
One day you’ll probably be expected to do some ruling, even though you’re entirely unqualified, come from a family of certified fruitloops and the only reason you’ll be doing it is because we can’t think of an alternative and we like gossiping about you.

If you make it that far, there are a few things it’s worth bearing in mind:

* Never put Nick Clegg in charge of anything
* Avoid people who wear loafers, even if they’re RAHLLY GREAT on cocktails and have a SMASHING sister and never talk to the press. It’s best to steer clear of people who cannot tie their shoelaces
* Privilege comes at a price. Yours is a beautifully gilded cage, but I wouldn’t want to spend my life in it. You can escape if you wish but bear in mind it’s a lot different outside than in
* Hold an opinion. Mummy has spoken publicly on fewer occasions than I have fingers, and everyone else has to keep their lips buttoned for constitutional reasons. But I reckon you can rule objectively – sign the paperwork, and so on – and still say, now and and again, that you disagree.
* You can safely ignore homeopathy, whatever Grandpa says

And that’s about it. I could tell you to avoid Egyptian grocers and Parisian road accidents, steer clear of the gin and be wary of those bearing camera phones, but by the time you’re old enough to give a toss about that stuff it’ll have changed.

In short, you must find your own way in a life for which there are too many rules and at the same time not enough, where you crave privacy and rely on the public, in which everyone you meet will bow and scrape and you try to tell yourself that you’re normal.

You could do lots and you could do nothing at all. It’s up to you.

Generally, it’s probably best not to believe anything anyone tells you unless you’ve checked the facts yourself; I doubt anyone’s ever going to tell you the truth about anything.

But trust me on the bumhole thing.
Click to expand...

Comments

Leona Gear

8:56 PM on 22/7/2013
Hope the poor kid never reads this. The entire article is in bad taste.
Click to expand...

Anna Bosworth

7:03 PM on 22/7/2013
Southwark comment truly disgusting. Shame on you Mirror.
Click to expand...
 
Firky said:
Meanwhile in other news...

Mum-of-three dead from brain tumour three weeks after being told by Atos to find a job


Her dad Ian said: “Even though she told the ATOS assessor that she had the brain tumour, they started the process to get her back into work.
“She was going to appeal but then she became unwell and was admitted to the Western General.
“After two weeks we were told there was nothing they could do for her. She died at St Columba’s Hospice.
“Nobody could give us a reason as to why the tumour reappeared. But it seems so coincidental that something like this happened. It was such a shock to her system.”

http://www.leftfootforward.org/2013...weeks-after-being-told-by-atos-to-find-a-job/
Click to expand...


:mad:

I doubt with all the papers fawning over this baby it's going to get much attention:(
 
Manter said:
Statistically, risk of stillbirth increases with every day over 42 weeks, which is why they recommend induction (based, as it happens, on a slightly problematic study that is pretty out of date, but that's another issue)
But they don't really know when 42 weeks is, so you are being told there is a statistically significant but still small risk of stillbirth, but the number of weeks pregnant they think you are is guesswork...

Lies, damn lies and statistics....
Click to expand...

Aren't there developmental landmarks with the fetus that are taken into consideration when the mother to be goes for the standard ultrasound?
 
Belushi said:
It's Johnny's future monarch as well as ours ;)
Click to expand...


A Canadian, yesterday:

bowing.down_.jpg
 
Johnny Canuck3 said:
Aren't there developmental landmarks with the fetus that are taken into consideration when the mother to be goes for the standard ultrasound?
Click to expand...
Yup, but each baby is slightly different. So they give you a x weeks and y days result based on their charts, but different countries use different charts, and each child develops at slightly different rates. I've had scans in uk, Ireland and Germany with this one, due to illness... And each due date is slightly different (and Germany give you a range)
 
Yeah the reaction is interesting. For my sins I just got the Labour Party email wishing the happy couple well and the reaction on the Labour FB page from the membership to what is a fairly innocuous statement is amazing. Overwhelmingly and quite splendidly encouragingly negative. Real proper class hatred of these fuckers and the system they sit atop of.
 
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