Happy birthday, William Windsor. From
Wednesday, what you do with your life is
for you to decide. At least it should be.
But, unlike any other 18 year old, your
future has already been chosen by your
genes. The son of a plumber or a brain
surgeon does not reach maturity knowing
that his only destiny is to be a plumber or
a brain surgeon. Your life is not your own.
The future will be more than comfortable,
of course, but think ahead to the endless
tours of places that bore you, where you
will be compelled to pretend to enjoy
meeting people who do not interest you.
Every detail of your personal life will be
distorted and demeaned by a rapacious
and salacious media which will treat you
as a hero until they decide it is time to
make you a villain.
Ahead of you stretch decades of
time-filling until the day finally comes -
and it may not arrive until you are a
balding 60 year old - when the position
decided for you by birth becomes vacant.
And - who can tell? - you might get to the
year 2042 only to find that you wasted
yourself waiting for a job that has been
Is this really the life you want? The life
that killed your mother and has driven
your father half-mad. Say you won't do it.
Abdicate the throne and renounce the
crown before they imprison you. Take it
back from history. Make it your own life.
You will have come of age, and you might
help your country to grow up as well.
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