I am looking for a new job. No, I’m not planning on giving this one up. I’m having too much fun messing with the humor-impaired, but I feel like I am ready for a new challenge, like maybe becoming a duke.
My sources tell me the position of Duke of York has recently opened up. Apparently, Andrew Whatshisname decided not to be duke there anymore — or any other place — after running around with the late convicted sex trafficker Jeffery Epstein and getting his picture made while doing it. And then telling the world he didn’t remember. Evidently, being a duke doesn’t require a lot of mental marbles.
I think, technically, he still has the title, but neither the royal family nor the good people of York want him around anymore. He has embarrassed them enough. Besides, he is still Earl of Inverness and Baron Killyleagh, although I suspect the citizens of Inverness and Killyleagh aren’t thrilled, either.
In case you’re wondering, York is in northeast England, about halfway between Upper Poppleton and Osbaldwick, and six miles south of the Piglet Adventure Park in Towthorpe Grange. You can’t say I haven’t done my homework.
York has a lot of history dating back to Roman times. It is pretty much a walled city, which is essential if somebody like, say, Belgium, tries to invade it. York also has a cathedral, York Minster, built in the 13th Century, as well as over 100 pubs and a racetrack. What York doesn’t have anymore is a duke.
This has to be a blow to York’s civic pride, especially since Wales, which isn’t even a part of England, has a duke who is set to be King of England one day. That’s got to hurt.
York hasn’t always been “dukeless.” Prior to Andrew Whatshisname, there have been 11 other Dukes of York, starting with Edmund of Langley in 1385. A few even went on to become kings. Let me pause right here to say if elected or appointed as Duke of York — however that works — I am not interested in being king. Donald Trump can have that job, too.
I am not quite sure what all comes with being a duke, but if Andrew Whatshisname can do it, how hard can it be? The only way he got the job in York in the first place was through the influence of his momma, who happened to be the queen.
Geography is not an issue for me. I can duke most anywhere, not just York. I just want the prestige that comes with the job. (“Hey Marvin, see that guy in the bib overalls at the QT gassing up his pickup? He’s a real duke!”)
Many dukes in the past have had their own armies. I don’t know that our esteemed Secretary of War, Pete Hegseth, would like the idea of me coming up with my own army. I would find out soon enough when he made one of his friends-and-family conference calls to share military secrets about plans to bomb Turkistan (if he can find it on the map).
Dukes get invited to all the best parties. The one exception is if you ever hung around with a convicted sex offender, got your picture made while doing it, and then told the world you don’t remember it. That will get you off the A-list in a hurry.
This brings me to my email, if I can make the duke thing work. When writing a duke, the proper etiquette is to start with “My Lord Duke.” I like the ring of that. And it is essential, too, that you use “Your Grace” in the body of the letter. And when done, you end with, “I remain Your Grace’s most obedient servant.”
It would certainly change the tone of some of the mail I get, like the one I recently received that said, “I admire that you have the gall to actually put your opinions into print, rather than just slithering into a closet somewhere.” You just don’t talk to dukes that way.
Instead, it should be, “My Lord Duke: I admire that Your Grace has the gall to actually put Your Grace’s opinions into print, rather than Your Grace just slithering into a closet somewhere. I remain Your Grace’s most obedient servant.”
That’s more like it, and that’s why I would like to be a duke.
You can reach Dick Yarbrough at dick@dickyarbrough.com or at P.O. Box 725373, Atlanta, Georgia 31139.