Remember when a bunch of people got their pitchforks out? They wanted him stripped of the title “Freeman of the City of London.” That’s a big deal, by the way. It’s like being a VIP at the world’s oldest club, but with more gold leaf and less velvet rope.
The review was supposed to be serious. You know, furrowed brows, stern looks, maybe a gavel or two. But in the end? They shrugged and said, “It’s fine.” Which, honestly, is the most British outcome possible. “Carry on, then.”
Why Did We Care So Much?
I mean, let’s be real for a second. Did anyone actually know what a “Freeman” does? It’s mostly ceremonial, right? You get to herd sheep across London Bridge if you feel like it. Seriously, that’s a thing. But mostly, it’s just a shiny badge of “I’m important.”
And Andrew is important. Well, technically, he’s a prince, but also a guy who wears medals and waves at crowds. The review wasn’t about sheep herding, though. It was about character. And apparently, the city’s bigwigs decided his character passed the test.
