The main event is the King’s Speech. But here’s the punchline: the King doesn’t write it. He’s essentially a very expensive, very well-dressed teleprompter. The speech is written by the government and lists all the laws they want to pass over the next year. It’s like when your boss makes you read their PowerPoint at a meeting—you just smile and say the words.
The King reads it with zero emotion. No jokes, no improv, no “let me stop and ask a question.” It is the most neutral, monotone reading of the most important political agenda in the country. If he sneezes, it’s considered a major constitutional crisis.
And the whole thing takes about ten minutes. After all the pageantry—the horse-drawn carriage, the crown, the royal robes, the bejeweled maces—the actual substance is over faster than you can microwave a frozen pizza. It’s like the world’s most expensive trailer for a movie that lasts a year.
Fun Fact: The “Lost” Tradition of the Hostage
There is a tradition so bizarre it sounds made up. During the State Opening, the monarch keeps a “hostage” at Buckingham Palace. This is a senior MP who stays behind as a guarantee that the King will return safely. The last official “hostage” was actually taken during World War II, and these days, it’s more symbolic than serious—but still! Imagine telling your Uber driver, “Sorry, I can’t leave yet; I’m the royal hostage.”
Why Prince George Wasn't at King Charles' First State Opening of Parliament
It’s a reminder that for centuries, the monarch was genuinely at risk from Parliament. Today, it’s a charming throwback. The hostage gets to watch the whole thing on television and enjoy a nice cup of tea. Best job in the world, honestly.
Oh, and one more thing: the Imperial State Crown has 2,868 diamonds, 17 sapphires, 11 emeralds, 269 pearls, and 4 rubies. It’s so heavy that the King has to practice walking with it. And yet, it’s still not as heavy as the pressure of trying to get an MP to agree on anything.