An ‘umble request to share out all those £millions

DEAR Your Majesty, I ’ope you’ll forgive me for taking a liberty and writing to you at this busy time, when you’ve got all the presents for the royal ’ousehold to wrap (don’t forget to use a cushion if you’re doing it on your knees!) but I wondered if an ’umble servant might be permitted to make a suggestion.

It’s about your speech, the one you’ll be making on Christmas Day, when we get round the telly before the Quality Street come out.

I don’t know ’ow much you follow the news, Ma’am (I get most of mine from Facebook, but I never see you on there) but there’s something worrying us ordinary folk. It’s about the kiddies – millions on ’em going ’ungry.

It’s not poverty like in our day – well, perhaps not yours, Ma’am – when we was lucky to ’ave a slice of bread and dripping, and some torn-up newspaper in the outside lavvie. But you’re classed as poor now if you’re on less than 17 grand a year, and that’s nowt for a family, is it? Not enough to keep the little uns warm and fed and clothed like they should be under a modern monarch like your good self. What makes it worse is all the rich so-and-sos, if you’ll pardon my French. Did you know there’s over 2 million millionaires in this country? That ’oover man, Sir James Dyson, he’s top. Worth £16.2 billion, they say. And there’s at least 50 more of ’em, BILLIONAIRES, living under Your Majesty.

I were in the dentist’s the other day and were looking at one of them posh magazines and they’d got Christmas gift ideas in there and there were a man’s watch for SEVENTY THOUSAND POUNDS! It just don’t seem right, ’specially when them at the bottom have ’ad it ’arder than most with this pandemic, what with short time and losing their jobs, then struggling to pay the rent. They’re gonna suffer next year, jabs or no jabs.

Anyway, I’ve troubled you long enough, Your Majesty, so I’ll get to the point. I were wondering, if you hadn’t quite finished writing your speech, if you could make a little appeal to all the rich folk to chuck a thousand quid each in a pot to ’elp the poor?

Them millionairers wouldn’t miss it at all but just think what 2 million thousand quids could do for the ’ungry kiddies!

I’m sure they’d all agree if it came from you, Ma’am. I reckon they’d be embarrassed to turn you down.

And I think I can speak for most of your ’umble servants when I say we wouldn’t mind if you kicked things off with a grand from the royal coffers what we give you.

Did you know there’s over 2 million millionaires in this country and there’s at least 50 more of em, BILLIONAIRES?