Tuesday, March 22, 2011

 

The king is dead

There was a pregnant pause before 'Long live the king' could be uttered. So I decided to conduct a hypothetical thought experiment. The last of these was discussed with PTV a couple of days ago. He disapproved quite vehemently. But then, he's going senile. And bald. And he's a Haddu. And he writes poetry. So one should treat his opinions in much the same way as the rest of the world treats Asif Zardari. This particular thought experiment focuses on who one should call the King. Let us put things into perspective. Say, George VI, having finally succumbed to the misery that he felt at not being able to emulate his elder brother in saying 'Screw you guys, I'm-a goin' to the US of A to marry that babe', has just passed away- may his soles rest in one piece. Folks across the universe are deliberating who the next 'king' should be. Assume here that the universe is much like that of the eminently forgettable movie- Delhi 6, i.e. transitions between the worlds of the living and dead are quite possible, even encouraged. And so the contenders begin.

Let's deal with the obvious ones first. Prince Charles is heard remarking to some jolly good fellow how he shall one day be the king. That he shall be to the throne what Tim Henman was to Wimbledon is yet to dawn on him. Jolly good fellow says Top Drawer and lets things be. Out of sympathy, he offers one Diana Spencer as Georgie boy turns in his grave.

Abdullah Bin-Abdul Aziz of the House of Saud, Custodian of the Two Mosques, Husband of the Two Hundred wives and Two million others, great protector of all that is oily, bearded and answers to Osama, kind jewel of the scorched land and part-time hair-stylist, also known as His Potbelliness, proffers his majestic persona. He is ruled against because Google searches for King Abdullah yield 'Did you mean husband of Queen Raina'.

David, Charlamagne, Caesar and Alexander turn up, announcing that their kingship has been on the cards long enough. The time has come for them to turn to the real thing. However, the contemporary world discards the traditionally stronger suits of David and Charlie and tensions break out among Caesar and Alexander regarding which is more desirable- diamonds or clubs?

Bahadur Shah Zafar is also summoned. But then, he writes poetry. Back to Burma. And a letter of invitation to PTV.

Elvis Presley announces that he has left he building to take the throne. A consensus is reached. The crown is called for. Elvis realizes he would have to wear the silly thing on his head. He refuses to compromise his "Abdullah Bin-Abdul Aziz of the House of Saud, Custodian of the Two Mosques, Husband of the Two Hundred wives and Two million others, great protector of all that is oily, bearded and answers to Osama, kind jewel of the scorched land and part-time hair-stylist" styled hair. He abdicates. And Michael Jackson is busy playing with little boys.

A loud commotion is heard. One discerns a thousand splendid surds, all the way from Punjab, Kanneda and Southall combined, dancing to Singh is King. They meet Burger King on the way. Heated exchanges follow. Burger King agrees to include aaloo in his menu. His business multiplies several-fold. The songs turn to burps. They all live happily ever after.

Kenny Dalglish arrives uninvited. So does Eric Cantona, who takes him to the Manchester ship canal, shouts 'This. is. Manchestaa' and kung-fu kicks him into the water. Just as he is about to ascend to the throne, Ken Loach clears his throat and announces that it will not be possible to Look for Eric if he's seated on the throne. So he is made to disappear. To New York Cosmos. No one goes there anyway.

The scenery dissolves. Swiss mountains appear out of thin air. Identically dressed men and women start dancing in cohesion as SRK makes his way. He starts off, My name is K-k-k-k-k... Last I checked, he was marginally ahead of Ekta Kapoor and Karan Johar combined on the number of K's used.

Just as we begin to despair and you start scrolling down to see when the post will end, A. Raja emerges and argues that since he can own everything on the planet anyway, it is only logical that he be the king. To cement his point, he presents his surname, which incidentally, is the one thing he didn't have to buy. He then decides to give something of his vast fortune to the rest of the world. So he creates the common wealth and installs Queen Elizabeth as figurehead. Why, you ask? Because he wanted a hefty royalty.

I do have a lot of free time, no?

Feel free to conduct similar thought experiments. And post a bit more.

Comments:
Thought crimes! :)
 
Did this thought experiment initiate while you were watching that drawling piece of cinema that inexplicably swept the Oscars this year? Perhaps one criteria could be to select a King who can finish uttering a complete sentence without stammering a thousand times and frustrating the listeners like anything.

My vote goes to Eric Cantona of course, of the 'when ze seagulls follow ze trawler' fame...
 
@ Arun
Nope. Not seen it yet. Might do so this weekend. Meanwhile- watch this if you've not already- http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SnxNnJYziMY
 
And here I was thinking velagiri had bounds.

Anyway, I'm not sure about the King, but perhaps this man is the emperor.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wjdguZIHmkE&feature=related
 
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