I was flicking through my extensive extempo selection of the topical and tedious: Chaguanas West, Emancipation, mysterious ministerial mansions, emasculated mats and depressed freedom–all worthy topics.
But then the front pages upstaged me and I was obliged to re-evaluate the Republic of T&T and its sudden flush of monarchism, as Jaunty Jack, Mrs P-B and even the bathing belles of Tribe ceded prime space to Little Prince Georgie, heir to the throne, in what is now decidedly Merrie England, thirty degrees in the shade and fainting.
It's really a curious business deconstructing the royal baby bonhomie, which took lead cover in all three limping national dailies over several days. In one sense Georgie was the perfect good-news distraction in our local mudslinging pond. Everyone, including this republican-leaning scribbler, loves a baby, at least until bawling time. But a baby with bling, and we're talking serious crown jewels bling here, is enough to melt the heart of the most hardened bobolist, and even our local royalty.
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