We are not amused. Charles and Camilla have decided to visit Canada. But nobody asked us, er, me.

The military is ferreting the royal couple around in a free jet, although I’m not sure why — are there no seat sales?

It’s bad enough Canadians are still addicted to this vestigial organ of English colonialism; the one we least want to see is Charles. According to the latest poll, 41 per cent prefer William as the next king, and Charlie’s stint as tabloid fodder is over (we hope), so what’s the point?

Not only that, his mother the Queen is poised to turn up in a few months, which means more bowing and scraping, not to mention jet fuel. At the rate the military budget is being depleted, our troops will have to leave Afghanistan before 2011, long before it is safe for democracy.

I guess you could say Charles’ visit pulls us together. This is the first time in living memory I remember agreeing with a separatist. I’m with Patrick Bourgeois, president of Réseau de Résistance du Québécois. Charles is indeed “an atavistic enemy of free Quebec.”

On second thought, maybe Charles’ visit is a good idea after all.

But no. It’s time to Just Say No to the monarchy and all the ridiculous nonsense that attends it.

It’s not just that the English monarchy is an affront to the dignity of people from Bombay to Belfast to La Belle Province, although there is that.

It’s not just that these people live in absurd state-sponsored luxury while 24,000 of the world’s children die of hunger every day. And I can’t imagine how they can even look at themselves in their gilt-edged mirrors.

It’s that here in Canada, we allow the Royals to distract us from nation-building. Instead of forging a strong democratic republic based on diversity, tolerance and imagination, we’re allowing Michaëlle Jean to get her vice-regal knickers in a knot over whether or not she’s the head of state.

Of course she’s not the head of state! She’s a CBC reporter! Get over yourself!

The Emperor or the Prince of Wales or whatever he’s called, has no clothes on — figuratively speaking — although I bet he’s tailored from tip to toe in only the finest products of Savile Row.

God save us from the Queen, the Prince of Wales, the Governor General, the Royal Corgis, etc.

Go home.

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