BIG SCREECHER: For Carmine, it would have been good to be the king

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By Carmine Santa Maria

Brooklyn Daily

I’m madder then a pauper who thought he could one day be a prince only to find out that he is not allowed to marry into the family over the fact that for years I couldn’t become King of England despite the fact that I dreamed of doing so and that I am, in fact, royalty here in Bensonhurst!

Look, you all know that if my lovely wife Sharon hadn’t swept me off my feet back in the day, I certainly would have had a shot at Margaret Thatcher or whoever the Queen of England is, and right now you would be calling me “His royal Screecher” instead of ol’Carmine.

But apparently, that was not bound to happen.

Now, I don’t need to tell you that just like every other kid who grew up in Little Italy, I wanted to one day be the head figurehead of an empire on which the sun never sets. And all this hype about a new prince being born, by George, has again got me thinking about what life would have been like had that dream become an actual reality.

Just think of all the things I could and would have done as the King of England. First, I would have made cucumbers the national food. Then, I would bequeath that Yorkshire pudding be a dessert, like all pudding products. Then, I’d tax your tea. Next, I would ticket everyone behind the wheel in England for driving on the wrong side of the road!

And you all know how good I look dressed in a robe and crown, with a giant scepter to help me walk or knock people out of the way as I ride past on my trusty steed.

But I digress.

The fact of the matter is all those dreams of grandeur I had were in fact a pipe dream, because you all know that in my day it was impossible for a Catholic to become the Keeper of the Faith thanks to some laws older and more antiquated than his Royal Screecher himself.

So my dreams could never have come true, and I could never have ordered the fallen down London Bridge be rebuilt in Tornado’s likeness.

Now, I’m told that those old laws have gone the way of the dodo, so now I’m doing everything in my power to get youngest grand daughter on a Concorde over to England so she can meet and greet little baby George, in hopes of one day meeting and greeting him in holy matrimony.

Look, you all know that beautiful Vanessa is a little bit older — by about half a dozen years — but in the future days and ages, those years won’t mean nothing. So if my progeny hopes to one day become royal — as I predict they will — we’ve gotta start early.

Oh, and sorry, baby, but when in England you have to do as the English do, so we’re going to have to stop sending you to the dentist, and, of course, braces are out of the question.

Now’s the point in the column when I make a complete left turn without signaling.

You know you’re getting old when your nephew turns 60. That’s what happened to me this week, when my nephew Anthony hit the big six-oh, and celebrated at this week’s shameless plug, Mama Raos on 11th Avenue and 54th Street. Of course, he thought he was having a surprise party the night before at this week’s other shameless plug, Sirico’s on 13th Avenue in Dyker Heights. You should have seen how surprised he was when he showed up there for what he was told was a different party — and it was! It was priceless. Well, happy belated birthday, Anthony, sorry I couldn’t attend either one, as it was my granddaughter Alexa’s 13th out on Long Island. That party, of course, was great.

Finally, this week we begin a new tradition: Carmine’s Fun Fact of the Week:

Did you know that the only time when there was no King or Queen in Britain was when the country was a republic between 1649 and 1660? In 1649 King Charles I was executed and Britain was a republic for 11 years. The monarchy was restored in 1660. And then they taxed our tea!

Screech at you next week!

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