rose and returned to the dispatch box. “Allow me to reassure the Honorable Gentleman, Mr. Speaker, that this government is offering its complete support to those in charge of the investigation. A report is in the offing. If, after receiving that report, we feel further scrutiny is warranted, I can personally assure this House that a government inquiry will be conducted.”
The Speaker then recognized a backbencher whose name James didn’t catch, but who spoke in a loud voice with an accent that could cut crystal: “Mr. Speaker, will the Prime Minister please confirm that inasmuch as Edward the Ninth was the reigning monarch of Britain at the time of his death, that he will be accorded a State funeral — with all the honor and, may I say, pomp and prestige suitable to such an occasion — and further, will he confirm in unequivocal terms his understanding that insofar as Britain is still a monarchy, he will continue to fulfill his sworn obligation, as the King’s Prime Minister, namely, to uphold, defend, and serve the sovereignty of our nation?”
The double-barreled question seemed innocuous enough, but a hushed House waited as Waring slowly rose once more to the dispatch box.
He cleared his throat. “Mr. Speaker, the Honorable and Gallant Member from Glenrothes has raised an important constitutional point regarding the funeral, and one which is currently being assessed by the Home Office. Their recommendation will form the basis of this government’s decision, which will be announced at the earliest opportunity. In the meantime, I most happily reiterate that as Prime Minister, it is not only my obligation, but my very great honor, to defend and serve the sovereignty of this nation.”
“Mr. Speaker,” the Fife backbencher continued, “should the PM be reminded that he is living in a dreamworld if he thinks he can bamboozle the great British public —”
“Order!” cried Carpenter from his thronelike seat. “The Honorable Gentleman will rephrase the question.”
“Thank you, Mr. Speaker,” replied the member from Glenrothes, and continued as smoothly unruffled as before, “I would merely ask whether it is the Prime Minister’s intention to deprive the nation of the opportunity to mourn their sovereign’s tragic death in a manner befitting the long and illustrious tradition of the monarchy of which Edward was the representative, or whether the Right Honorable Gentleman will choose instead to make a cheap political point at the expense of the British people?”
The question was aired before the Speaker could cut it off, and the House shook with the uproar. Speaker Carpenter shouted something, which was lost in the furor. The BBC voice-over announcer pointed out that, as the question had been ruled unparliamentary, the PM was not required to answer — and he didn’t. Instead, another question was taken, and a member inquired whether Magna Carta II would be discontinued now that it had achieved its purpose.
This question, which could not have been far from many minds, silenced the House again. As Prime Minister Waring returned once more to his place, every eye was on him, every ear awaiting his explanation.
“This government, Mr. Speaker, has over the last few years endeavored to bring one of our nation’s most ancient and revered institutions into step with the realities of a modern democratic nation-state. Magna Carta Two, as it has been termed, was only one of several tools employed for that purpose. But, Mr. Speaker, the plain fact is that the voluntary abdications this government has acquired —”
The House burst into catcalls, whistles, and a blizzard of furiously waved order papers, cheers, and hisses. “Order!” Carpenter roared. “Order! Prime Minister!”
“Voluntary abdications,” Waring repeated, “acquired by this government, when combined with the unfortunate circumstance of King Edward’s death, however lamentable in itself, does bring to an end what might be mildly
The Speaker then recognized a backbencher whose name James didn’t catch, but who spoke in a loud voice with an accent that could cut crystal: “Mr. Speaker, will the Prime Minister please confirm that inasmuch as Edward the Ninth was the reigning monarch of Britain at the time of his death, that he will be accorded a State funeral — with all the honor and, may I say, pomp and prestige suitable to such an occasion — and further, will he confirm in unequivocal terms his understanding that insofar as Britain is still a monarchy, he will continue to fulfill his sworn obligation, as the King’s Prime Minister, namely, to uphold, defend, and serve the sovereignty of our nation?”
The double-barreled question seemed innocuous enough, but a hushed House waited as Waring slowly rose once more to the dispatch box.
He cleared his throat. “Mr. Speaker, the Honorable and Gallant Member from Glenrothes has raised an important constitutional point regarding the funeral, and one which is currently being assessed by the Home Office. Their recommendation will form the basis of this government’s decision, which will be announced at the earliest opportunity. In the meantime, I most happily reiterate that as Prime Minister, it is not only my obligation, but my very great honor, to defend and serve the sovereignty of this nation.”
“Mr. Speaker,” the Fife backbencher continued, “should the PM be reminded that he is living in a dreamworld if he thinks he can bamboozle the great British public —”
“Order!” cried Carpenter from his thronelike seat. “The Honorable Gentleman will rephrase the question.”
“Thank you, Mr. Speaker,” replied the member from Glenrothes, and continued as smoothly unruffled as before, “I would merely ask whether it is the Prime Minister’s intention to deprive the nation of the opportunity to mourn their sovereign’s tragic death in a manner befitting the long and illustrious tradition of the monarchy of which Edward was the representative, or whether the Right Honorable Gentleman will choose instead to make a cheap political point at the expense of the British people?”
The question was aired before the Speaker could cut it off, and the House shook with the uproar. Speaker Carpenter shouted something, which was lost in the furor. The BBC voice-over announcer pointed out that, as the question had been ruled unparliamentary, the PM was not required to answer — and he didn’t. Instead, another question was taken, and a member inquired whether Magna Carta II would be discontinued now that it had achieved its purpose.
This question, which could not have been far from many minds, silenced the House again. As Prime Minister Waring returned once more to his place, every eye was on him, every ear awaiting his explanation.
“This government, Mr. Speaker, has over the last few years endeavored to bring one of our nation’s most ancient and revered institutions into step with the realities of a modern democratic nation-state. Magna Carta Two, as it has been termed, was only one of several tools employed for that purpose. But, Mr. Speaker, the plain fact is that the voluntary abdications this government has acquired —”
The House burst into catcalls, whistles, and a blizzard of furiously waved order papers, cheers, and hisses. “Order!” Carpenter roared. “Order! Prime Minister!”
“Voluntary abdications,” Waring repeated, “acquired by this government, when combined with the unfortunate circumstance of King Edward’s death, however lamentable in itself, does bring to an end what might be mildly
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