“Good afternoon and thank you for finally attending this Job Start Interview!” Said the Civil Servant.

“You’re welcome Mr Isious!” replied the attendee politely-reading the name badge on the Official- with all the charm of a gentleman that had been to Gordonstoun and then Dartmouth Naval College.

“ Mr Andrew Albert Christian Edward Windsor I presume,…do you have any photographic identification on you to prove this fact?” asked the former DSS snooper.

“Sorry…one doesn’t carry a wallet around with me…money is vulgar…hang on …One has a photograph of oneself flying a helicopter in the Falklands War …would that suffice…is that what you are Sea King?” Asked the eighth in line to the throne of England, passing over a tattered old Kodak snapshot, now yellowing with age.

“Not really but it will have to do…don’t forget you won’t be allowed to vote at the next General Election without proper identification documents you know!” replied the know -it - all Government employee reading from the YouGov site.

“ So why is one here….is one in trouble?” asked the disgraced Royal.

“Not compared to recent events….you are here because officially you have not worked since 2002 when you left the Navy!” Replied the jobsworth.

“That’s 21 years to be precise and you are only aged 63 and therefore still of an age that you are eligible to work!” He continued.

The Duke of York gulped nervously but didn’t sweat it.

“So according to our Government records, you are receiving State benefit from the Sovereign Grant , formerly the Civil List, to the tune of £250,000.00 ….the question is are you actively looking for work?” the interviewer said looking over his bifocal glasses.

“Well ….stuttered the Prince….my Mother has only recently died …!” 

“That was over six months ago in September 2022!” Continued the Questioner.

“And what about the previous two decades….were you just F***ing about?” asked the Civil Servant turning very uncivil.

“Look…one told that BBC Lady, Emily Mattress,  in my other interview that one doesn’t  drink coffee and therefore haven’t been anywhere near a Maxwell House!” denied the Duke.

“So what exactly have you been doing since your last recorded job in 1982?” Asked Mr Icious.

“Do you have a first name ?” Asked Andrew.

“Of course…it’s Malcolm!” Replied the Government Employee.

“May one call you Mal?….Mr Icious?” Queried the Duke.

“Most certainly NOT!” Replied the Job Centre Plus Interviewer.

“This is a formal interview to determine if you deserve to continue to receive handouts from the state!” He continued.

“So other than playing around with your chopper for two decades…what exactly have you been doing?”

“Well…one has been waving a lot …!” replied the Royal with absolute sincerity.

The interviewer furrowed his brow and stared at the Duke.

“Mainly from the deck of the Royal Yacht Britannia…!” he stuttered.

“ Do you know the song a life on the ocean ‘wave’ is better than going to sea?” Said the posh boy.

“Is that why you are called Handy Andy then?….I thought it was for a different reason!” said Malcolm turning the Royal colour Purple, apoplectic with rage.

“Well we both sponge money off the Taxpayer don’t we?” Said Andrew trying to find ‘common’ ground with the commoner.

“ You mean as a civil servant I am obliged to accept a below inflation pay award and work till I am 67 …five years longer than any Frenchman …whilst you live the life of Riley….it’s complete nonsense!”

“Some would say nonce-sense actually!” Replied the Sniggerer.

“And don’t mention Frogmore please….it’s still a sore point with my family!” 

“So are you claiming too for any dependents?” Asked the Interviewer.

“Yes, for one’s daughters Beatrice &  Eugenie !” The Royal outcast said.

“ And how old they…are they still in school or full time education?” Malcolm pressed harder.

“Let me see Beatrice is 34 and Eugenie 32 and of course Sarah my other dependent is 63!” Andrew continued.

“Don’t any of them have their own jobs?” Asked Malcolm absolutely flabbergasted.

After three long minutes of laughing from Andrew he replied “Are you serious?”

Looking around the whitewashed walls of the Windsor Job Centre, he uttered.

“Come on…who set this up ….Michael McIntyre or Ant n Dec?”

“Can’t be Jeremy Beadle….he is no longer about after all!”

“This isn’t a laughing matter, Mr Windsor…I am here to make sure that you find work or we stop your State ‘benefit’ like everyone else in this Country!” said the official in a more Mal Icious tone.

“So what skills do you have?” Asked Malcolm.

Andrew racked his brain and repeated “Waving?”

“There are several job opportunities available working in the Pizza Express Woking Branch….do you know it?” asked the Interviewer.

“No!” Replied the Duke immediately.

“Never been there in my life….oops…on second thoughts one went there with one’s daughter on the night that one DIDN’T go to Tramp nightclub…!”

“What perks do you get ?”

“Well it is a bit like the Hooters restaurants they have in Canada and the US with young girls serving in skimpy outfits only with different ‘toppings!” said Malcolm luring the new Prince of Darkness in to bite.

“Interested?” 

The Duke was now leaning forward at the desk.

Malcolm lifted the telephone up and spoke into it.

“Susan…would you be good enough to bring me in the Pizza Express bakery job application forms for the Woking branch….you will find them under the 

P- Dough File!” 

Andrew looked suspiciously at the Official he had heard that word chanted a lot when he was in Buckingham Palace ever since he had innocently paid Three Million Pounds to a charity suggested by a girl he had never met.

“You are aware that the allegations about One and Miss Go Free were never proved in a Court of Law do you? said the Duke rather testily.

“Not my concern really!” Said Malcolm.

“Do you know why One did that free interview with Emily Mattress?” Countered Andrew.

“Former BBC reporter Martin Bashir rang up the Palace claiming he had further evidence….bloody phoney wank statements….how dull does he think one is? …Princess Diana or something?” raged Andrew.

“Oh ‘hang on’….there is also an International Job going as a prison officer at the New York Correctional Centre….sounds like money for old rope…!”said Malcolm looking at his computer screen.

“ Are you still allowed to visit the United States ….?” challenged Malcolm.

“Come to think of it….One does have a lot of Air Miles left on One’s frequent flyer account to Palm Beach , Florida….but on second thoughts best not to go there again…you know with all those selfies of people One has never actually met….!”mused Andrew.

“Sauna Tester in IKEA in Kyrgyzstan?” proffered Malcolm.

“You could do that no sweat!”

The evil eye from the Royal followed.

“Why does one have to get a job anyway …surely with all those people coming over in those small boats ….they need a job more than One does…after all…One’s ancestors created the British Empire especially for people who DO have the ability to break sweat….!” Replied the Royal in a posh voice.

“Oh they are fast tracked to Rwanda these days…so the Post-Brexit fruit is still rotting in the fields without anyone to pick it!” said Malcolm.

“Do you fancy a try?….after all you have a plum in your mouth most of the time anyway!” He continued.

Andrew leaned in and whispered

“One thinks we both know that neither One nor One’s family are ever going to do REAL work as we are too important to the British economy given the amount we bring in from tourism?” Replied Not so Handy.

“How much is that a year?”asked Mal.

“19 Million Pinds!” said the Royal gurning with the pronunciation.

“And the cost to the tax payer for the Sovereign Grant ?” questioned the Interviewer.

“Don’t know or care!” Said Andrew churlishly.

“It’s amazing what you can find on the internet especially with a Freedom of Information form these days…..try £369 Million give or take a few clocks…!” Replied the clear Republican.

“ So what is your point exactly?” Asked the peeved Royal feeling more exposed than Prince Harry at a Las Vegas pool party.

“Everyone in Britain must now pay their way or get deported to Rwanda!” said Mal 

“That’s the most ridiculous thing one has ever heard!” said Andy channelling the late Kenny Everett.

“What about Stanley Johnson up for a knighthood?” asked Mal the inquisitor.

“Point taken!” sniggered Andy.