BEHIND THE PALACE GATES

INSIDE ST. GEORGE'S PALACE 

Today, the Hanover World Report is pleased to offer our readers a special and rare glimpse inside what may be the best known yet most mysterious place in all of Great Hanover, St. George’s Palace. 

Home to Hanoverian monarchs since the days of King Alexander, St. George’s Palace, named in honour of St. Edward the Confessor, is instantly recognizable, both to Bergen residents and tourists the world over, yet few have any idea what life is really like behind those gilded gates and granite walls.   

Erected by royal architect Sir Lutyens Wren Pugin somewhere between the years 1767 and 1978, St. George’s has for decades served as the backdrop for glittering court ceremonies, outrageous scandals, and predictable palace intrigues. Her fabled history aside, however, St. George’s has simply been the place which our head of state calls “home”.  

Here, our monarch lives, works, eats, and sleeps, eats again, and in this place of fame and grandeur, the king of Great Hanover interacts with ordinary mortals like you and me. Whether honoring deserving subjects, creating new peers, or appointing ministers, the sovereign utilizes this hallowed structure as the principal point of encounter between himself and those whom he governs. 

Today, we have been given unprecedented access to spaces within the palace unseen by tourists, the private apartments of His Majesty The King. An equerry has escorted us, much to our surprise, into the king’s private study, where the monarch is presently granting a private audience to a prospective candidate for a highly coveted office of state. 

Mr. Andrew Davies Hyde from East Hamham in the Duchy of Harburg has been very keen to obtain a position of significant responsibility within the royal court for some time, and his numerous letters, phone calls, and email inquiries have at last paid off. Having been thoroughly vetted by the Ministry of Important Titles, Mr. Hyde has his final interview, today, with the king, himself. 

Prior to his audience, Mr. Hyde was given a tutorial in royal etiquette by the king’s equerry, Group Captain Tillson Tillsen-Tillson, instructing the applicant to address the monarch simply as “Sir” throughout the meeting.   

Let’s listen in…

THE KING: Good morning, Mr. Hyde; thank you for coming. Please have a seat. 

HYDE: Thank you, Your Majesty. 

THE KING: The Minister for Important Titles informs me that you have applied for the currently vacant post of Lord First Executive of the Office of Urgent and Necessary Functions. 

HYDE: That is correct, my liege. 

THE KING: "Sir" will do, Mr. Hyde. 

HYDE: Of course, Most High, Puissant, and Exalted Sovereign; as you like.

THE KING: And what, Mr. Hyde, do you aspire to accomplish as Lord First Executive, if appointed? 

HYDE: Nothing, Your Imperial Divinity. 

THE KING: Nothing. 

HYDE: That is correct, Most Holy Father. 

THE KING: Interesting. Could you, perhaps, expound upon that? 

HYDE: Yes, of course, O Glorious Bird of Paradise. By "nothing" I mean not a thing. I will not do the job. Moreover, I do not want the job. 

THE KING: You...you don't want the job? 

HYDE: That is correct, Ever-radiant Sun of the Estimable Heritage of Your Ancestors; I do not. 

THE KING: Yet you are asking me to appoint you to this position. 

HYDE: I am, Thrice-blessed Lord Over Space and Time, yes. 

THE KING: I am compelled to ask, in that case, Mr. Hyde…are you insane? 

HYDE: You might very well think that, Pharaoh Whose Compassion is So Sweet That the Skylarks Cry Out to You in Times of Trouble. 

THE KING: Yes, I might. So, were One to appoint you to this office, One might expect to see you engaging in what sort of things, precisely? 

HYDE: On day one, Your Glory, I would not show up for work. I would then decline to open my portfolio, refusing, furthermore, to participate in anything whatsoever, including (and most especially) the things which I had previously begged the Crown to allow me to participate in, generally failing in every respect to meet the objectives of the office to which I had been appointed. That sort of thing. 

THE KING: I see. Not even the occasional "like" on social media then? 

HYDE: No. 

THE KING: Right. Is it that you find "liking" particularly burdensome, Mr. Hyde, or would you describe it as more of a challenge, perhaps? Not enough of a challenge, maybe? I’m just trying to get a sense of... 

HYDE: I would, Your Sun-Drenched Luminescence, describe what you are describing as a verifiable willingness to offer a positive indication of my existence, and that just isn't in my lane, I’m afraid. 

THE KING: I see. Were I to venture a guess, Mr. Hyde, I would bet that your lane is the passing lane, in which you drive slowly, with the objective of letting everyone from the right lane cut in front of you in order to intentionally exasperate the drivers behind you. Is that your lane, Mr. Hyde? 

HYDE: It is, yes! I must say, Your Opulence, I feel seen. 

THE KING: Right. So, were I to post a matter of business relevant to the duties of your office requesting a response from you, you would... 

HYDE: Read it, but then ignore it, not responding to it at all, as if I had not seen it. 

THE KING: That’s just magnificent. You realize, however, that I am able to see that you have seen it, right? 

HYDE: I do realize that, O Great Jupiter, and yet I prefer, despite knowing as much, to act as though you do not have that capability. 

THE KING: Perfect. Mr. Hyde, I wonder if you are aware that there are numerous grand-sounding symbolic fluff positions open which demand no effort or input at all from their incumbents. Might I interest you in such an office?

HYDE: Perish the thought, Most Excellent Silver Sheen of the New Dawn on the Beaches of Malibu; why would anyone want such a position? 

THE KING: I am prostrate with grief for even suggesting it, Mr. Hyde; please forgive me. 

HYDE: I feel that I ought to declare, here and now, in all good faith and in the interests of full disclosure, that, if appointed, I shall reserve the right to become inexplicably angry with you from time to time, Beatific Angel of Justice, without your knowledge and without giving you any earthly hint of it, yet expecting you to know it, nevertheless. 

THE KING: Through my gift of clairvoyance, I expect. 

HYDE: Yes, exactly. 

THE KING: I love that. 

HYDE: I nevertheless sincerely repeat my fondest desire, Your Gilded Magnanimity, to obtain a position of the greatest responsibility within your court. 

THE KING: But you don't actually want one. 

HYDE: No. Not at all. 

THE KING: Is it, perhaps, the questionable prestige you crave, or... 

HYDE: Circling back to “insane” if it pleases Your Sainted and Moonlit Opaquity. 

THE KING: Right. OK. Good. Excellent. And should I not appoint you following this disastrous interview you will... 

HYDE: I will stage a baroque display of contrived outrage at your unjust, tyrannical, and sacrilegious regime while demanding your immediate abdication before ineptly and insincerely plotting with my peers to overthrow you, O Glorious and Effervescent Sun of the Twelve Concentric Universes. I will then and immediately found a Versace-themed Lusophonic empire ruled by a "Quesident" which lasts thirty-seven days before, at last, returning to ask you how you've been, lately. 

THE KING: That was beautiful. Pardon me, I’m just writing that one down. 

HYDE: Of course, Celestial Ruler of Ten Thousand Years.   

THE KING: I wonder, did I happen to mention that "Sir" is actually...oh, you know what, never mind. Keep ‘em coming. 

Subsequent to his audience of the King, Mr. Hyde was appointed the twelfth Lord First Executive of the Office of Urgent & Necessary Functions, and has not since been seen or heard from by anyone.

THE HANOVER WORLD REPORT . 2021