By allowing ads to appear on this site, you support the local businesses who, in turn, support great journalism.
Im George the VII, I am
Placeholder Image

Once the United Kingdom had a new royal heir, Brits were all atwitter to see what Prince William and Princess Kate were going to name the little fellow -- little being a relative term, as he weighed about 8 and 1/2 pounds.

They finally decided on George Alexander Louis, and he will be known as His Royal Highness Prince George of Cambridge.

That’s a bucketful of name for a little fellow, and if he were going to go to public school, he could expect to catch a lot of ribbing, sort of like a Chauncey might. I doubt he’ll end up at P.S. 43 in London, though.

Royalty experts say the parents made a political decision, as it was the name of his great-great-grandfather and a few other kings before him.

I was hoping for Henry IX, which would engender a lot of jokes around merry old England but probably wasn’t seriously considered by William and Kate.

After all, the last Henry chopped off a few of his wives’ heads, pretty much dismantled the Catholic church and felt that holding people prisoner in the Tower of London was the ultimate act of hospitality.

Little HRH George isn’t exactly going to have a tough row in life, other than the fact that photographers will follow him everywhere and all the young lasses of the UK will be flinging themselves at him at record pace. If they can get close enough to him to fling, that is.

The future king will be the toast of the town, and everyone’s hoping he’ll get his shot at the throne earlier than his grandfather, Prince Charles, who’s sitting idly by in his jodhpurs waiting for Queen Elizabeth II to decide she’s had enough.

I wouldn’t blame poor Charles for sneaking into the royal bedchambers each night to take his mum’s pulse. She’s been wearing the crown for 61 years and shows no inclination to step aside.

Charles might keel over before she does, at which point new dad William would become king of England upon the queen’s demise.

King of England. Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?

I’m not sure where William and Kate live now, but one day they’ll get to occupy Buckingham Palace, which isn’t too shabby.

They have the changing of the guard there and all sorts of celebrations in which soldiers stand stiffly at attention and pretend they’re dead.

And when little George grows up and decides to take a bride out of all those who have flung themselves, he’ll be able to get married at Westminster Abbey and have a nice carriage ride.

The kid won’t have to worry about where his next shilling is coming from, either. The royal family is said to be worth about half a billion bucks, so George won’t be standing in any bread lines.

The little guy will be the seventh King George, so there’s lots of precedent there, though the name is no longer so popular in the states among all us commoners.

In Maine, for instance, where Wife Nancy and I spend time, there hasn’t been a single baby named George in more than three years, and I don’t know any fishermen at all who call themselves His Royal Lobsterman George.

In any event, public opinion polls show Brits still support the monarchy, and everyone will enjoy watching the little chap grow up.

Will and Kate seem a likeable couple, and perhaps they can avoid the royal scandals that have plagued some who preceded them.

Here’s wishing little George the best life has to offer, even if he’s not named Henry The Ninth.