Welcome 2023. The COVID era’s ‘new normal’ has bowed out, and we need to revert to some ‘old normal’, including reviving New Year resolutions.
Me personally, I just usually repeat the previous year’s declarations, as most of them never see full implementation. As this takes only a few minutes, I spend time finding out the resolutions made by the world’s A-listers. (This curiosity is akin to a similar phenomenon you may have heard of or experienced – namely, the interest in the Netflix series on famed royal wreckers Harry(ble) and Me(gh)an Markle to learn what goes on behind the glided walls of palaces.)
And so I start with ‘Ginger and Whinger’ of Sussex, and their plan to blast their royal rellies in 2023. I must take extreme care in writing about them, as they habitually blame and sue the press for invading their privacy. Yet we know that at the same time, they reveal every intimate detail about themselves and their family for bucketloads of bucks, tipping the bucket on the Bucks… Does the acronym HRH stand for Hypocritical Royal Horde?
After a good deal of sweet-talking, their agent lets me have a peek at the Suits starlet’s script. “Having milked millions playing the race card and flashing the royal titles, I can’t afford to miss the Coronation – that will be a crowning moment for our next Netflix bonanza. So I need to sound reasonable, asking for a mere apology like the charity worker Ngozi Fulani got from the elderly Lady Hussey for asking where she came from.”
Now to the much-harried Harry’s scribble. “As a rich renegade now, I don’t hanker after the privy purse pittance from dad. Netflix has netted me 140 m plus the Random House ransom of 70m for the book. All this thanks to Meghan’s theatrical tutoring. If only Wallis Simpson had Meghan’s guile, my great grand uncle Edward would have been crowned and not frowned upon. My HRH title seems to be a Hugely Remunerative Heist. Can’t afford to be stripped off. To prove that I am not an Arch(ie) enemy of my family, gilding the Lilly is the best Bet this year.”
At the palace, King Charles writes in his diary with a gold embossed new royal crest: “Now that I am the architect of this country, I have to rein in my tongue that once lashed the land’s architects. No more tactless talk of desiring to be a tampon, less talking to the plants, and more talking to the people. Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown, said the bard. Even before donning the crown, I see some headwinds from California. I will read ranga’s Random House rantings, of course unseen by anyone, and then decide whether to spare, scare or snare him.”
Queensland’s Kevin Rudd, feeling like a king after his appointment as Ambassador to the US, jots down: “After my dream to become the chief mandarin at the UN to give the world a fair shake had evaporated, this is the next best thing. Many observers are concerned about my selection, based on past cabinet colleagues’ vicious comments and my performance as PM. My brutal comments about China and Trump may come to bite me as well as previous unfavourable stand on AUKUS and Quad. Having been the boss of Penny, now I will have to take directions from her. Eating humble pie and with some strategic ‘programmatic specificity’ I will have to prove my detractors wrong.”
More powerful than any king, President for Life Xi Jinping, now eating his humble dumpling, has relaxed his zero COVID regulations, only to see cases zooming. He notes, “I could easily wave Hu Jintao away at the big event, but it’s clearly not that simple with this virus. Have to suppress the small protest before it turns out another Tiananmen and attracts condemnation from the outside world. Need to soften the wolf warrior image. Australia could be a good start. Wang Yi, allow red wine from there. Cheers!”
READ ALSO: (Not the) Person of the Year 2022