Hairy Story

By the way, did you know a woman on the other side of the world gave birth to her first child the other day? It's true! In other news, ten thousand other women did the same thing, four thousand five hundred and sixty two sat and stared at the wall, one started to paint her toenails green with pink polka dots, and five ate turnips for breakfast.

Really, why should I care if Mary Donaldson gave birth? The Australian media seemed to think I should. It's something to do with her husband, who just happens to be a Grand Baron, or Dark Overlord, or Mighty Legislator, or Prince, or something like that. He's basically one of those ordinary guys who, through no fault of their own, are born into positions of ridiculous privilege and power.
Fairy story? Bugger off. I prefer the fairy story which ends with an entire town being tricked into jumping in a lake. Or with a witch being thrown in a barrel full of spikes and rolled into the ocean.

So, what does this new kid have to look forward to? Growing up in a palace? (Great - where's he going to go when he wants to get some Maccas?) Meeting Prime Ministers and talking economic policy (when he'd much rather be at home playing on an Xbox?) Being famous and appearing on the covers of all the Danish newspapers? And, um, being famous and appearing on the covers of all the Danish newspapers?
Personally, if I ever met this kid, I'd tell him to study his Family Tree. Not to find out about his great-great-great-grandfather's wife (and also his cousin), or the time when his uncles aunts uncles father conquered Transmistria, but because he'd find he shared a lot in common with the Family Tree.
After all, they're both rooted.