Richard III demands a say in his reburial
Another document you won’t find in the UK’s National Archives
2012: Email sent to Leicester Council from riii@mecloud.com.heaven
Dear Mayor and Councillors,
I read in the Telegraph this morning that my bones have been found. About ruddy time! I’ve been lying in that damn damp carpark waiting for decades, but did you knaves consider that, no, it was ‘He’s in a horse trough at the bottom of the river’ and ‘Let’s move on to the next subject: waste disposal.’ Well, thank heaven for John and Philippa finally getting the gravediggers in. Oh, wash my mouth out, they prefer to be called archaeologists, do they?
Right, what I want to know is who is going to make the decision about where I’m going next, the bones, I mean. How about Westminster Abbey with Anne?
Standing room only? Pah, they could kick out the Percys and give Anne and I a chapel all to ourselves. You reckon not? Oh, come on, that bastard Tudor and his friggin’ mother have plenty of social distancing from the rest. And what about the Tower chicken bones in the urn?
No, not Windsor! I don’t want to go in with Ned and her indoors. A Woodville “lying” next to me. I had enough of that when I was living.
Holy Paul! You are telling me unless the Home Secretary intervenes, the bones of anyone who came to a sticky end (mine was sticky alright) have to be buried within a certain radius of the place of death. Who is this Home Secretary person? Is it because of the plague he’s working from home and not in his office. You say he doesn’t want to interfere? Could someone notify him I was a king. K-I-N-G?
What about Middleham or York Minster? I really loved it up there.
Oh, Leicester wants to attract tourists? TOURISTS? What, like pilgrims? You want my bones to make money for you? And what do I get from this deal?
A new tomb? Pah, I had one of those before in the Greyfriars Chapel. How do I know a developer isn’t going to rip into the back of your cathedral and build a highrise?
You give me your word?
What about my burial procession and a lying in state? I want it like we did for my dad — at least 600 in mourning robes with brooches on their hats and torches. No, not those sort of torches. You reckon over a thousand unpaid volunteers lining the road. Not bad, but, what, only one horse? More horses! And move my statue! Are we settled now? You want Leicester City winning the Cup Final?
I don’t know but….
OK, done!
