In a bold display of democratic engagement, citizens across the nation took to the streets last Thursday to voice their concerns about the monarchy, waving hand-painted signs that read “Down with Royal Nods!” and “Eavesdropping is for Peasants!” Meanwhile, in a lavish palace adorned with gold leaf and a stunning view of an increasingly gray skyline, the Crown responded with a heartfelt nod of approval, even going so far as to spill a drop of royal tea on the red carpet. According to palace insiders, the Queen’s reaction to the rising tide of civic discontent was a mixture of bemusement and perplexity. “It’s so cute when they think we’re listening,” one aide reportedly said, laughing while sipping a hot beverage specifically blended from rare herbs harvested on the far side of the globe. “The Queen often nods during speeches. It's like a royal wave, really. Think of it as our version of the thumbs-up emoji!” As chants of “We want change!” ascended into the delicate air laced with the scent of overpriced pastries, the royal family remained safely ensconced within their gilded cage. Unbeknownst to most, the hidden eavesdropping rooms—equipped with state-of-the-art listening devices designed to capture the nuanced tones of citizen frustration—failed to register the dissatisfaction due to the persistent use of clichéd royal platitudes. The listening devices, it turned out, had been calibrated for a different era, only able to pick up phrases from Shakespearean sonnets mixed with the occasional royal decree. While some citizens described their protests as a cathartic exercise in civic duty, others felt they were merely playing a public game of charades with a bunch of deaf aristocrats. “I’m not sure why I brought my sign,” lamented one protester, covered in the drizzle from what can only be described as an unfortunate atmospheric response to the collective frustration. “I swear, I saw one of Their Royal Highnesses offer a faint smile. Or—wait—was it gas? Hard to tell.” Political analysts quickly stepped in with their own nods to the situation—one notably said during an evening segment, “The monarchy is a practical institution. It’s mostly symbols, and sometimes it’s just a nod. I mean, you wouldn’t expect the crown to drop everything for some ruffled feathers when, at the end of the day, their feathers are gold-plated!” As the evening descended and the citizens parted ways, many departed with the profound realization that their earnest pleas for change were likely to float away, like the cocktail napkins bearing the hopes and dreams of so many. “Next time, I’ll bring a megaphone,” one citizen sighed, glancing back at the imposing palace. “At least then they might think we’re serious.” In stark contrast, palace staff carried inside remaining remnants of the royal tea party where cucumber sandwiches took center stage—a fitting tribute to a royal family whose diet is comprised primarily of lavish indulgences meant to distract from the stark realities of ordinary life. The juxtaposition between the inside and outside world has never been clearer: while citizens grasp at the strings of democracy in one hand, the Crown clutched firmly to its tea in the other. As the day drew to a close, the banners flapped in the wind, and one could only wonder—when citizens speak, does the Crown listen or just nod? Perhaps the answer lies within the scented confines of royal tea, steeped in an indifference as rich as the monarch’s jewels.