This knighthod is starting to look a little ill-timed. You may have seen that this weekend two British soldiers were murdered (shot in the head as they lay wounded on the ground) and four other people (including two pizza delivery guys) were wounded by the same IRA terrorist scum for whom Ted has always expressed such solidarity and admiration.

As far as the Queen goes, she’s great. Here’s at true story. A few years back she was having an audience at Buckingham Palace with Clare Short, a minor Labour minister, now deceased. In the middle of the meeting Clare’s mobile rings. The Queen raises an eyebrow:

“Someone important?” she says.

Don’t hold our American aristocrats or their crimes against us, and we won’t hold the mistakes of your royalty against you. God bless the Queen, she’s knighting a bootlegger, a manslaughterer, a champion of all that is in emnity with faith and freedom. God bless Teddy, and grant him true repentance. Don’t think that knighthoods count for much in the afterlife.

Starring a newly-resurrected Mickey Roarke as Ted, Susan Sarandon as Joan and Meryl Streep as Victoria.
I considered casting Julia Roberts as Victoria but I think she’s too young.

When you visit his official website (wwww.kennedy.senate.gov – go ahead, your taxes are paying for it) to catch up on what he’s been getting away with lately you’ll find that, as well as statements about Iraq that haven’t been updated since 2006 (no surprise there) that in the “Senator Kennedy’s Bio” section the Conscience of the Senate makes no mention whatever of Joan Kennedy (neé Bennett), his first wife and the mother of his three acknowledged hatchlings. Search the site for her and you’ll get O returns.

She’s gone, baby, gone. A non-person. Disappeared. She never happened. Instead, we’ve got this: “Kennedy lives in Hyannis Port, Massachusetts, with his wife Victoria Reggie Kennedy. Together, they have five children –Kara, Edward Jr and Patrick Kennedy, and Curran and Caroline Raclin. They also have four grandchildren”.

I bet that that brutal “Together, they have five children”, when three of them are HER kids, had poor Joan staggering back into rehab pronto. That unhappy woman; she’s usually described as “troubled” but how troubled, exactly? Well, Google “Joan Kennedy” and the first three hits you get are “Fall revives Joan Kennedy’s struggle with alcohol”, “Kennedy’s Cape Cod home put on market” and “Kennedy’s children become her guardians”. That’s enough trouble for anybody.

How’d she get that way? As usual with the Kennedys, it’s a sad, cruel story, and here’s how it happened, kinda:

TED KENNEDY, the DOGGED ACHIEVER*, stars in “Joan Who?”

Ted knocked back another slug of rum and gazed fondly at the faded, gold framed photograph of his first wife. Joan. Oh, my Joanie. Joan – so beautiful and so doomed.

Ted took a sip of his highball and thought back about how it had all begun with so much love and hope and how it had all gone so wrong.

He remembered that special day in 1957, making an appointment to see his Dad, and then, that even more special day late in 1958 when he finally got in to see him. Ted recalled waiting on the bench outside his father’s office. Gotta pee, he thought, but if I get up I could lose my place. Gotta try to hold it…

After His Excellency the Ambassador had to take care of his other business– first with Sam from the Chicago outfit, (Hey, kid” the squat Sicilian had said. “How’s tricks?” “Hi, Uncle Momo” answered Teddy) then Pabletta, the Ambassador’s personal masseuse, and her friend Candy, then Tony from Atlantic City, followed by Richard Cardinal Cushing, personifying so perfectly the majesty of the Church, then after 18 holes of golf and lunch, it was finally time for Ted’s appointment.

“Oh shit; are you still here?”

“Hi, uh, Dad”

“Don’t ‘Dad’ me. Cut the crap. Wadda you want now, Tad? Is it money? Are you in some kind of trouble again?”

“No, Dad. I want to, uh, get married”.

“Oh, jeez… Well, you better sit down – not the good chair, you could have one of your accidents. The other one”.

Nervously, Ted had told his father of his feelings and desires.

“I love her, Dad, and I want to marry her. I, uh, hope I’ll have your blessing”.

“I could test her out for you, Tad” leered the old man. “Waddaya say? Make sure everything works all right downtown? You don’t wanna get hitched to a dud, now do you?”

“Please, Dad” said Ted in a quiet voice. “Not this time. Not again. Please”.

“Aw, get outta here, I was just kidding. You can keep this one. Now amscray; I’m busy writing this letter to the Pope telling him how to handle those lousy Jews”.

The old man waved his big, freckled hand in dismissal.

“Then its –okay?”

“Sure, Tad. Fine. Whatever. Now get lost”.

“Thanks, Dad, thanks! O boy! Wait’ll I, uh, tell everybody! O boy!”

“Fucking retard” muttered Old Joe as his youngest son skipped away down the hall.

At first Ted and Joan were so happy and so much in love. Every day passed in a golden haze of joy but, before very long, dark and sombre shadows appeared. She seemed to be everything he needed –blonde, hot, not too bright, good breeder – but, alas, Joan was not the woman he thought her to be, not at all. She was a deeply flawed person and each day her imperfections became more glaring, more obvious, more painful, to him.

She aged, for example. Despite Ted’s clear instructions to stay eternally young, after just a few years of marriage Joan was looking distinctly older. What a cruel trick! She was doing it on purpose – just to spite him!

She also expected him to be “around” and to help “raise” their children. Didn’t she understand that he had other, more important, things to do? He came home at Christmas most years – wasn’t that enough?

She didn’t understand about his, um, personal requirements, either. As a virile Kennedy male, he had certain manly needs which needed to be ministered to on a daily, sometimes hourly, basis. Not only was she not always available for him, she actually objected when he went elsewhere for that oh-so necessary relief. It was so unfair!

His sisters had tried to help Joan see her responsibilities –“breathe through your noise” they’d advised her. “Just lie there and pray for it to be over” Mother Rose had counselled – but it was no good. No good at all.

She let him down with the children, too. She actually had the gall to miscarry his fourth seedling –selfish bitch! It was only a couple of weeks after the thing- we- don’t- talk- about at Chappaquiddick happened, so it wasn’t like he was in any way responsible.

Ted poured himself another glass of Absolut. Then there was the drinking…the fights, the embarrassments, the public humiliation, the multiple DWIs, the recurring trips to Rehab. It was a terrible burden having to live with an alcoholic. He knew all about that…

It was the women’s fault, really. All they ever caused were problems. Every time some Kennedy male got in trouble, there was some woman right next to him; getting splattered with his brains or lying on the ground under him getting raped or being paralyzed when he flipped the Jeep over or nagging him that he was flying the plane upside down into the ocean – “I know what I’m doing, Carolyn. Quit screaming!” or hammering desperately on the window as the car filled with water –“Ted! Don’t leave me! I’m afraid!”

Nag, nag, nag. Me, me, me. I’ve got brains in my hair. I’m paralyzed. I’m raped. I’m drowning. I’m dead. It was always something with them, always something. Joan was no different. His Dad had tried to warn him.

“What are wives for, Tad?” the venerable tycoon asked as they stood together outside the cathedral on Ted’s wedding day, surrounded by all the teeming, swarming family, the murmuring priests and nuns, the clouds of incense, the banks of flowers, the State Troopers, the Swiss Guards sent over specially from the Vatican, Dad’s old German friends up from Brazil, the dazzling Hollywood royalty –hey! That’s Peter Lawford!

“To, uh, love, honor and cherish?”

“No, dummy!” said Old Joe, giving Ted a playful belt in the head with his heavy fist. “What’s the matter with you? Wise up! To bear our kids and take our shit, that’s what. Jeeez. You want plenty of kids, Tad. You always need lotsa back stock in case of accidents and plane crashes or if any of them turn out to be a…disappointment. Take my tip, Tad. Knock her up fast and keep her knocked up. Then she’s always busy with other stuff and you can do what the hell you want”.

“Like sailing?”

“Sure, Tad – sailing. That’s what I’m talking about”.

“I like sailing”.

“You fucking retard. C’mon; lets go and get this over with…that poor girl”.

Then, after so many years, it was finally over. She’d clung to his side, a walking Al-Anon poster, through the 1980 campaign, when America had foolishly spurned his bold leadership but after that…well, what could he do?

He couldn’t be expected to stay home and look after her or try to make her happy, could he? He had his family’s devotion to public service to think about. And anyway, why should he? Not after everything she’d done. It was too late for her to change and, frankly, she’d got in the way of his happiness for too long.

The divorce was a mess, of course. “Irretrievable breakdown” –ha! She was the one who was broken down, he was doing great. Nothing the matter with Ted! Cost him $4 mil but it was worth it, a bargain, in fact. Getting the Church to bless his second loving union had cost him lots more. Lots.

Poor, uh, Joan; she, uh, didn’t deserve me, thought Ted, dropping her picture into the wastebasket before mixing himself another gin and tonic. She sure didn’t.

* “Ted Kennedy -The Dogged Achiever”. TIME cover story April 14, 2006.

I’m not casting aspersions really.

It’s entirely forgivable if she’s falling apart, especially after 50+ years on the throne.

But, she’s been, how do I say, strangely unprotective of her kingdom lately, especially in the face of the mohammedan onslaught.

What, for example, would Henry VIII have said about the current Rowan Williams?

The British homeland itself has more or less fallen into Saracen hands without so much as firing a shot. And the royal house has no objections ?!?!?!?

So far as knighting disgraced Kennedy is concerned, she is knighting him for what? What could she possibly be thinking?

Has he done something for England? Hell, has he done something for America?

Is she thinking at all, or simply sinking into her, perhaps well deserved, dotage?

=========

So far as the royals just hanging around is concerned, I think it’s high time they reconsidered that idea. I certainly would. They do have a rather impressive heritage to defend you know.

Although as I implied, given the current crop, I’m not sure which would be worse for England.

Trouble is, I don’t get it that the next in line crowd is particularly sane.

There’s a young one who actually served as a soldier. Maybe he’s got his marbles.

Poor England. It was nice while it lasted.