Queen Camilla

I've just finished Queen Camilla by Sue Townsend.

It's probably the best novel I've read this winter.

Although the Queen and I, Townsend's prequel to Queen Camilla, did end on a rather different note, just ignore the last chapter of that book.

It is thirteen years since the Royal Family were uprooted to the Flowers' Estate, and Princess Diana has mysteriously disappeared (with no road mash involved) to be replaced by Camilla.

Trapped in the Flowers Exclusion Zone by ankle tags and private security police (forced to pay £500 for their own Tazers), the Royal Family discover that Charles and Camilla have a love-child.

A love-child who hates stepladders and loves tiddlywinks, and dwells at the outer reaches of the Metropolitan Line.

Throughout, the book remains frighteningly real.

Boy English and his homely political broadcast resembles David Cameron and his naff webcameron.

The Vulcan computer seems eerily predictive of the recent multiple data mishaps, given Queen Camilla was published in 2006.

However, humour stills abounds from Queen Camilla, although the book is not quite as sharp as the Queen and I.

No Royal is safe from Townsend's lampoon.

Much better than (for me) the disappointing Number Ten, and on a par with The Secret Diary of Adrian Mole series, Queen Camilla should be on everyone's coffee table.

Or, if you live under the Cronwell Party, under the floorboards with Orwell.