Satiricus was amused. He’d just read about this fella who’d shown up at the horse racing meet the Queen would attend annually – at Ascot in England – and was insulted by the royal media. Seems the chap had been awarded a Knighthood by Antigua – which gave him the right to call himself “Sir” whatever. In this case, “Sir Anthony”. And the Royal hirelings, of course, objected.
“Only the Queen of England could award Knighthoods,” huffed Satiricus.
“Wha’ mek da?” asked his old buddy Cappo. The persistence of the May-June rains into July had curtailed cane-cutting and the friends had sought refuge in the Back Street Bar.
“What kind of foolish question are you asking, Cappo?” demanded Satiricus with some heat. “You think any Tom, Dick or Harilall could make people “Sir”?”
“Budday! Me na talk about King Fighta, and Lord Sharty and dem calypso bais!” smiled Cappo. “Is wan country Antigua mek de man wan “Sir”. Suh wha wraang wid Antigua?”
“Nothing is wrong with Antigua, Cappo,” said Satiricus. “But they can’t hand out “Sirs” like candy.”
“Suh you t’ink Sir Vivian Richards is sweetie?” countered Cappo.
“Cappo, you playing with me!” said Satiricus as he downed his beer and ordered two more. “You know Sir Viv is OK. The Queen’s people never objected to him. But the Governor General of Antigua who gives out the Knighthood handed one to her son and her Gardner! “
“OK…Sato old fr’en’,” said Cappo placatingly. “But de Queen namek she son Andrew and wan harse jackey “Sir” too? An’ Antigua na object.”
“I give up, Cappo,” said Satiricus. “So what you think we should do?”
“Me t’ink abee sh’u’d done way wid all dem “Sir” and “Lard” and t’ing,” opined Cappo. “People should respect people fuh wha good dem do.”
“Let’s drink to that,” said Satiricus, as he clinked his bottle with Cappo’s.
