Screw you, Queen Camilla. You come to the New York Public Library with some store-bought Roo and present it to us like it’s the real thing? Like you’re some parent who is going to trick us into believing you found our lost stuffie? This thing smells nothing like Roo. It smells like condescension. Was it nice of you to visit the lobby housing the collection of Christopher Robin Milne’s stuffed animals, the ones that inspired his dad to create Winnie the Pooh? Maybe. I don’t know what queens do. I would have guessed knighting rock stars or planning to take over when this democracy thing collapses. When I recently visited the glass case housing the stuffed animals, which had been gifted to the American publisher of Milne’s books, I read the plaque that says the kid lost Roo in an apple orchard in Sussex in the 1930s. So you went to your country’s oldest surviving teddy bear company, Merrythought, and had them make a replica of an artifact? As if we couldn’t take the D train to Coney Island, play Whopper Waters against some eight-year-olds, and come back with a “Roo”? How about we come over there and present you with a paper crown from Burger King? Or a map that shows 65 countries still under the British flag? Or return Ringo Starr in the shape he’s in now? Here’s 20 million tea bags we bought on Amazon. Now we’re square! You’re the Queen of England. If you really cared, you could send thousands of your subjects to scour the apple orchard where Christopher Robbin lost Roo. Finding something buried in a forest is what you people are good at, at least according to all those Cozy Crimes shows on Brtibox. What are we supposed to do with this bogus Roo? There’s no way it’s going in that case with the real Pooh gang with some sign that “Queen Camilla spent $30 on this.” If it’s going anywhere, it’s in its own separate case nearby that is marked “trash.”
The queen may have fooled the monarchist-loving New York Times, which ran the headline “Queen Camilla Unites Winnie-the-Pooh With a Long-Lost Friend,” but she’s not fooling Kanga, Piglet, Eeyore, Tigger, and Pooh into thinking they’re getting a “long-lost friend.” This is the kind of crap we’re afraid they’ll pull on our parents in memory care units. “Charlie, look who’s sharing your tiny bedroom! It’s your old army buddy, Roo!” What’s next on the tour, Camilla? A stop in Athens to gift a foam-core Elgin Marbles? India to present the cubic zirconium Koh-i-Noor Diamond? Biafra to offer up 20,000 Lego people? And are you really the queen? You don’t look remotely familiar. If I saw you walking down a street, it wouldn’t occur to me to drop to my hands and knees. At most, you look like a lady I’d offer my subway seat to. When in the course of human events, it becomes necessary to return a cheap-ass gift for a gift certificate, then those people should do so right away. Despite what the queen assumes, perhaps fairly based on our recent foreign policy, we Americans are not Bears of Little Brains. We know a hustle when we see one. Merrythought, which made Bogus Roo, just happens to be the company that sells a $450 HM King Charles III bear whose “wise and regal persona is subtly captured by the bear’s deep blue eyes and hand-stitched smile,” according to the website. And I would say it “captures the monarchy’s insidious graft.” I can’t wait for those wankers to lose Paddington. Thank you for paying to read my column. Wait: This is for the people who didn’t pay? Then I owe you nothing. You are the ones contributing to the end of my career. If you want to pay an exorbitant amount of money to get one extra post a month – which often won’t even be that good – upgrade to a paid subscription here:
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