I’d like to see this clown trade in Buckingham Palace for the slums of India, let’s see how far this clown gets..
Algore 2.0?
As was visible in Slumdog Millionaire, Dharavi has a very poor sewage system and water supply.
It is estimated that the town contains one lavatory for every 1,400 residents. A local river, Mahim Creek, is widely used by local residents instead, leading to the regular spread of infectious diseases. During monsoon season, streets regularly flood with human waste.
“I strongly believe that the west has much to learn from societies and places which, while sometimes poorer in material terms are infinitely richer in the ways in which they live and organise themselves as communities,” the Prince said.
"The way I see it, anyone not Royal should do well in such slums. Outside the castles, everyone else is fit for such life. Of course, royalty has been made by G-d for better, but for everyone else, really, what's the diff between the pathetic little 3, 4, and 5 bedroom houses I see dotted all over England and a muddy shanty town with open sewers?"
The British crown has fallen unbelievably far from the days when Shakespeare could believably give the future king inspirational words:
What’s he that wishes so?
My cousin Westmoreland? No, my fair cousin;
If we are mark’d to die, we are enow
To do our country loss; and if to live,
The fewer men, the greater share of honour.
God’s will! I pray thee, wish not one man more.
By Jove, I am not covetous for gold,
Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost;
It yearns me not if men my garments wear;
Such outward things dwell not in my desires.
But if it be a sin to covet honour,
I am the most offending soul alive.
No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from England.
God’s peace! I would not lose so great an honour
As one man more methinks would share from me
For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more!
Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host,
That he which hath no stomach to this fight,
Let him depart; his passport shall be made,
And crowns for convoy put into his purse;
We would not die in that man’s company
That fears his fellowship to die with us.
This day is call’d the feast of Crispian.
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam’d,
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say ‘To-morrow is Saint Crispian.’
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars,
And say ‘These wounds I had on Crispian’s day.’
Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,
But he’ll remember, with advantages,
What feats he did that day. Then shall our names,
Familiar in his mouth as household words-
Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester-
Be in their flowing cups freshly rememb’red.
This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Crispin Crispian shall ne’er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered-
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition;
And gentlemen in England now-a-bed
Shall think themselves accurs’d they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s day.
He’s definitely not rowing with both oars in the water. Time for a new line of succession for the English throne.
I can see the point he is making, about recycling and organisation.
However, using a slum isnt perhaps the best example.
Charles Lindbergh had this same mental disorder. Worship of primitive culture and advocacy of savage life. Basically a hatred of humanity, posturing as virtuous and benevolent.
So let him go live there sans legacy.