Dear Prince George Alexander Louis Cambridge-Middleton,
I write to you, on the occasion of tomorrow’s first birthday, from your fairy godsubjects, We, the People. Well, Your Tiny Highness, what a year it’s been: 365 days of pouting, stropping, drooling and, if reports are to be believed, several months of screaming until you were put on solids (quite right too — one has to show these people who’s boss).
And may I be the first to congratulate you on a terrific job? Sterling work on the chubby-cheek front, you already have more hair than your father and have been utterly consistent in offering great dungaree. Uncle Hazzer is right: you do look like Churchill — the statesman and the insurance-selling dog. Australia loves you, New Zealand