King Ralph

The rain has stopped, Your Majesty. We should be able to continue with the portrait.

So I should hope, Albert. First time we've had the whole family here for six years.

Let's try and get one in. We'll need both banks to fill light.

I've already strung the cables, sir.

- All set up, sir. - Thank you. We're ready now, everybody.

Please remember to look straight into the lens and keep your eyes wide and bright.

Now, after three. One, two...

three.

I know, at a time like this, it's difficult to apply oneself to any task.

But a surviving heir to the throne must be found.

The nation, the Commonwealth, and I dare say the known world await your findings.

Good luck, gentlemen.

Since when do we give a toss about this kind of bullshit?

Shut up, Dysentery. Where's your sense of national flippin' pride?

Er...

- Excuse me, Sir Cedric. - Yes?

- I do believe we've found an heir. - That's wonderful, Duncan. Who is it?

His name is Jones. Ralph Jones.

Ralph Jones. Is he everything we might have hoped?

Well, he has his strengths and his weaknesses.

You see... he's an American.

Quickly. The strengths?

And here's one from the great Don Ho, the godfather of Hawaiian soul.

# Tiny bubbles

# In the wine

# Make me happy

# Oh, how they make me feel fine

And he's in there!

# Tiny bubbles

# Make me warm all over

Are you shittin' me?

# With the feelin' that I'm gonna love you

# Till the end of time

Thank you.

- Brady, I got that 20 for you tomorrow. - Yeah, right!

Hey, Mitzi. Your show went a little better than mine.

Hey, Ed, what are you doin' down here?

I've had it with you, Jones. We're not payin' you to watch television.

Hello. My name is Duncan Phipps and this is Inspector McGuire.

What did I do now? Couple cheques bounce?

No, he's here for your protection.

Hey, Jones, get over here. I'm not finished talkin' to you.

Come on in. I'll sign a picture for ya.

Smashing show, by the way. Smashing.

- We're not renewing you after this week. - What?!

- I'm puttin' Mitzi in your slot. - (MITZI GABBERS)

You little backstabbin' bitch.

- Just turn in your tux, Jones. - What?

Cos I wouldn't sing 'The Impossible Dream'?

Vacate your room by noon or we'll throw your stuff out.

Shit. Can you believe that?

It's beyond all comprehension, Your Majesty.

But I have news that might bring you cheer.

I doubt it.

It is my glorious duty to inform you...

that you are the new... King of England.

You see, the late king's uncle, the Duke of Warren...

had a small dalliance with your grandmother, Constance...

who was a waitress at the hotel where he was staying.

One Gastro Death-Dealer with onions, jalapeños and Tabasco.

Thank you.

At any rate, Constance had a son, your father.

Now, since he and your grandmother are both dead...

you are the only surviving royal heir in your line.

Look, even if I believed ya, which I don't...

I haven't got time to be the King of England. I gotta get a job.

This is more than a job.

I may put a band together, get back to playing rock and roll.

But you can't refuse the throne. It's a sacred trust.

- Yeah? What does a sacred trust pay? - You don't get a salary, as such.

- As I figured. I pay you, right? - You don't need money.

Everything's taken care of. The king has his own castle, five castles, in fact...

a fleet of cars, a yacht, a full staff of servants.

Good God, the future of a nation's at stake.

You're good, Dunc. Real good.

- Do you remember your grandmother? - Connie? Yeah.

Remember a ring she wore?

Sure, she'd brag about it all the time. She said she got it from some prince...

There's only one other like it... the Duke of Warren's.

Was this the ring?

Holy shit.

Yes!

Yes!

How long do you need me? I've never held a job for more than six months.

Well, you see, a king is a king for life.

No problem. My schedule's pretty open.

# God save the king

# God save the king

# Rule Britannia

# God save the king

There it is, Your Majesty. Your new home.

- Which room's mine? - Um... all of them.

# God save the king

# God save the king

Excuse me, Sir Cedric. His Majesty is here.

Very good.

Allow me to introduce our sovereign lord, Ralph Jones...

King of Great Britain, Northern Ireland and all her other realms and territories...

Head of the Commonwealth, Defender of the Faith.

How you doin'?

How do you do, Your Majesty?

- I'm Cedric Willingham. - Glad to meet ya, Ced.

Have you ever been to England before?

No.

But I have almost all the Rolling Stones albums.

Well, then, you're practically a native.

Dunc says you've been here 25 years. You must be a hell of a typist by now.

I'm not that type of secretary.

My duty is to instruct you in the arts of sovereignty, to make you a king.

Uh, look, my 'duties' are mostly for show, right?

I hope you're not countin' on me to solve problems...

because I don't have a lot of experience.

English law prohibits monarchs from solving problems.

Unfortunately, it doesn't prohibit you from creating them.

Good! That's a load off my mind.

So... where do we start?

Everywhere.

You might be thinking what name you'd like to use as king.

'Edward' and 'George' have been popular this century.

- What's wrong with 'Ralph'? - It lacks a certain... majesty.

I can't really think of any notable Ralphs.

Well, sure...

Ralph Macchio. Ralph Lauren.

Ralph Kramden.

Oh, this is extremely nice. Better than I'm used to.

This is the picture gallery. Many of the people in the paintings are your relatives.

That's the Duke of Warren, your unfortunate grandfather.

You have his chin.

That's George III. You may remember him.

He was king during that little temper tantrum you call the Revolutionary War.

Sounds like sour grapes to me, Ced. After all, we did kick your ass.

The loss is entirely yours, or rather theirs.

Try to remember you're an Englishman now.

OK, but I still think they kicked our ass.

Just a few quick questions to probe your knowledge of English history.

Fine.

When she failed to give him a son, Henry VIII had Anne Boleyn...?

- Look into adoption? - Beheaded.

Jeez, this is a tough country.

Would this be to your liking, Your Majesty?

You know, I kinda like that.

That's an upholstery fabric, Your Majesty.

English people don't generally like their monarch to look like a sofa.

Ah.

These are traditional English dishes, some of which you will be served tonight.

Here we have roast beef and Yorkshire pudding...

bangers and mash and the ever-popular spotted dick.

Spotted dick?!

- Dick of what? - These are the bangers.

Sausages.

The spotted dick is a dessert.

Could I just have some ice cream?

Quite an eventful first day, Your Majesty. I'll leave you to rest now.

This is Your Majesty's bedroom.

There you go, chief.

Unfortunately, you can redecorate your private quarters as you see fit.

- Good. I got a few ideas. - The velours industry is on stand-by.

Through those doors is your dining room, and across the way, the bath.

Through here is your study...

and there is your dressing room.

Anything we've left out?

I don't know. How about a bowling alley?

One other thing. At your coronation four months hence...

you will be required to wear the imperial state crown.

It's usually kept in the Tower of London, but we placed it near your bed...

as a reminder of the eminence of your office.

It contains the Star of India, the second largest diamond in the world.

You should practise wearing it to get used to the weight.

- Good evening, Your Majesty. - Thanks.

- Hey, Ced. - Yes?

What exactly is it that a king does all day?

Scarcely a minute is unaccounted for.

Nevertheless, what you do is not as important as what you are.

What am I?

To be the King of England is a responsibility like no other on Earth.

You must become a symbol of all that is best about England.

An embodiment of our history, our culture, our morality, our pride of achievement.

In short, our ideal of civilisation. You must, under harsh public scrutiny...

exhibit all of our virtues and none of our shortcomings.

Wait a minute. I thought all I was supposed to do was dress up and wave.

- I don't even know what our virtues are. - You will learn soon enough.

I'm afraid it's a god's burden to bear. Unfortunately, it must be borne by a man.

Good evening, Your Majesty.

It's not enough simply to be the king. You must look and act like one.

We'll begin with the walk.

Imagine yourself to be the master of your domain.

A leader of men.

Don't swing your arms.

Back straight.

Head up.

But relaxed.

How am I doin'?

It's an unmitigated catastrophe, Prime Minister.

This song-and-dance man from the colonies...

It's the end of everything that we hold dear.

And please try to keep in mind that Jones will need a certain period of adjustment.

He's American. He's impervious to adjustment.

Better to declare his line at an end than subject England to this embarrassment.

Are you suggesting that we have no king at all?

Certainly not. Simply choose a king from the House of Stuart...