Page 22 of The Unlikely Heir
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New Prince Makes a Splash!
Swan Lake: A Royal Mishap
More Fowl Play from the Royals: Callum Prescott’s Disastrous First Public Appearance.
At least my visit to the wildlife reserve has provided the headline writers at the British tabloids the chance to show their creative side.
Social media is even worse—there, the memes fly faster than a hummingbird after a double shot of espresso.
Royal Flop: Callum Prescott’s Epic Entrance
Prince Callum’s Birdbath Blunder
Someone has put together a side-by-side of two photos. One shows my Uncle Albert standing next to a flock of swans waving sedately. The other is a great action shot of me flailing backward as Larenn and Joshua hiss at me.
It’s been captioned:
“What’s the difference between an American prince and a British prince?Apparently, only one of them pisses off swans.”
Although my personal favorite is from the username BritishPatriot, who has gone with a historical angle.
Henry the 1st– defeated the French.
Callum the 1st– defeated by a swan.
And people think this country isn’t going to shit…
Which doesn’t seem like a patriotic sentiment, but maybe he feels that pointing it out is his patriotic duty? Who can resist a helping of national pride with a side of sarcasm?
“So, it wasn’t a complete success, but it could have been worse,” Maudie, a Clarence House communication team member, says. Of all the communication people, I like Maudie the best. She reminds me of my sister, Amelia, with her curly dark hair and square glasses. She also seems to be someone who sees the positive in situations, which is definitely a useful skill when her job is dealing with my media mishaps.
“How could it have been worse?” Raymond asks.
“Well, he could have crushed the swan eggs,” she replies.
It turns out that’s why Larenn so uncharacteristically turned on me. She and Joshua had been getting along even better than the Sooty Bottom staff anticipated, and there were three large white eggs in a nest of twigs.
The exciting news that Larenn and Joshua are starting a family thrilled everyone at the reserve. I’d tried to share their enthusiasm but found it difficult when I was dripping wet, smelling like pondweed, and aware that humiliating photos of me were about to saturate the globe.
“You’re right,” Raymond says. “At least we don’t have the RSPB calling us to complain or PETA protesting outside the palace.”
“Yes, and the staff at the wildlife reserve all said complimentary things about Prince Callum. It’s unfortunate their commentary got drowned out by the pond incident.”
Drowned out? I slide a look at Maudie to see if that was a deliberate choice of words, but her expression remains mild.
“It does appear that everything else about the visit was swamped by that,” Raymond says, his mustache twitching.
Okay, so now I’m almost convinced they’re mocking me. Or taking the piss, as they’d say here in England. I’m normally fond of that dry British humor, but it’s not much fun when I’m on the receiving end.
Raymond’s mustache gives one final twitch before his face grows serious and he turns his focus on me. “Tonight’s the state banquet for the Commonwealth Heads of Government. The queen, Prince Nicholas, and Princess Amelia will be there as well, so the spotlight won’t be completely on you. All you have to do is turn up, smile, and not do anything to generate a headline.”
“I’ll try my hardest,” I say.
ChapterEight
Callum
