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I was once talking to my Mum when she
turned with deadly seriousness and informed me that The Queen had ordered the
hit on Princess Diana. I started to laugh because of how she'd delivered such
conspiracy theorist bullshit with absolute certainty. Her eyes narrowed and, as
if daring me to continue mocking, she asked “What, you don't think The Queen
could have you killed?” After a pause, I took the dare and laughed even harder.
Resigned to the fact that I wasn't going to indulge her paranoia, she delivered
her final and most chilling warning. “Actually” she said quietly, “I wouldn't
laugh about it if I were you”. What the fuck was she waffling on about? Usually
my Mum is quite rational with her conversations, rarely venturing further than
the subject of her two dogs or weekly caravan trips away. I never got to the
bottom of why she was telling me this and it's now been so long that she claims
not to remember it. In which case, all we can do is analyse what was said and
try and work out what was really going on. Maybe she'd accidentally stumbled
across clues as to our monarchy's murderous ways or perhaps it was something to
do with the six cans of apple cider that she'd spent the night pouring down her
throat. If we know what's good for us then I suppose we should never find out.