Hurrah! The royal baby's name has been officially revealed - at last we can address the Prince of Cambridge properly. So Clare Bennett has written him a welcome letter - it's the polite thing to do. Apart from anything else, it's important he knows why Granny Camilla will be so very useful in years to come...
You have only been with us but for a scant few days, but dude, did you see those cameras? You've already caused more of a media storm than the first moon landing. If only we could have said sorry in advance, but try not to be weirded out. It's just that we are obsessed with you and that's because your parents are kind of a big deal round here and that makes you an even bigger deal. It's just the way it is, kid – don't hate the player, hate the game.
As much as Mummy might secretly have been harbouring a desire to name you North or Phaedra, you've ended up with George Alexander Louis. Yes, they're straight names, but chances are you're not going suffer from Lost Identity Syndrome (seriously, try being called Clare Bennett). It would have been fun if they'd called you Barbara if you'd turned out to be a little girl, because the Barbara Windsor we already have isn't going to be around forever, and while we've had a Barbara in the Royle family, we've never had a Barbara in the Royal family.
Still, there's always the next time if a little sister joins the gang. And - *said in a tiny voice* - considering what your title will eventually be, I'd silently been keeping my fingers crossed for Kong, although I realise it was always going to be a long shot. You could have scaled Westminster Abbey on the day of your coronation and swiped at the media helicopters. William the Conqueror never did that.
It might be relatively early on for your mind to be turning to working life, but let's get that out of the way right now. If you're harbouring ideas that you might be a vet or a skydiving instructor, forget it. It's snipping ribbons and pulling tiny chords on tiny curtains, stroking old people and pretending to be interested in poems written by seven-year-olds for you.
But that's OK. You are already more popular than Justin Beiber and Kim Kardashian put together, so everything and anything you do will only ever be greeted with rapturous applause and extreme love. "The Prince just took his hand out of his pocket! Bravo!" "Prince George has such a way with breathing, don't you think? He does it so elegantly." "The way he stroked that old person – what a gift he has." It's important to remember that while you may be dying of boredom inside, you are Re.Pre.Zenting, a skill your great grandmother has turned into an art form. Slap a perma-smile on that face. We'll love you for it.
The good news is, when it comes to marriage, it's open season. Those merging-of-two-houses days where you'd be betrothed to Infanta Leonor or Crown Prince Hussein are over, thank Middleton, I mean, God. Keep your eyes on the Jolie-Pitt girls – they're already massive lookers – or Blue Carter / Suri Cruise. Fame is power these days – no one gives a hoot about dismal old ancestry.
It won't always be easy - but as long as you remember that Granny Camilla will always have fags and a calm word and that whatever you do, Uncle Harry will have done worse, you'll be just fine.
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