I guess you would
have to be a Republican like me to feel the severity of the pain drilling into your brain right now.
For millions of Britons, being asked to
celebrate that a stranger is being born into a life of the highest privilege just because a sperm of a royal fertilised an upper middle-class woman’s egg, is as jarring as it is baffling.
We wince at this
blanket coverage of mentally challenged goons standing outside a hospital, or staring through palace gates, waiting for news about the birth of a prince they will never meet, apart from to tug their forelock at (and that’s just the royal correspondents).