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Queen Victoria's voice

August 01 2025
@ John Sheehy @ John Sheehy

How did Queen Victoria really sound? Our intrepid time-traveller O’Haggis investigates.

RECAP: Longtime readers of the Pavement will be familiar with O’Haggis, the time-travelling super sleuth with a knack for getting in all sorts of bother. Past adventures include a daring prison escape and a UFO escapade with the late Prince Philip. 


1888: Queen Victoria’s voice is recorded on a wax cylinder. It is misplaced sometime during WW1, but modern scholars think they have rediscovered it, in the ample attic space in Buckingham Palace.

Over the years the quality of the cylinder diminished until it becomes all but unintelligible. However, modern AI technology enables researchers to restore it to its original glory. Is it truly the voice of Queen Victoria? Here we offer a transcript of an exchange captured on the instrument:

Queen Victoria (QV) [surprisingly cockney]: “So, what’s this thingybob, then?”
Equerry [fawningly]: “An apparatus that records the human voice, Your Majesty!”
QV: “Do wot? Turn it in! You’re having a giraffe, ain cha? You’re having a tin bath!”
Equerry: “I assure you that it is so, Your Highness.”
QV: “Straight up? Well, let’s see if it records this for posterity!”
[Rasping flatulence rings out]
QV: “Cor! Better out than in!”
Equerry [coughs and splutters]: “Yes, Your Majesty!”
QV: “Go on, whiff up! Get that down yer!”
Equerry [gasping]: “Yes, Ma’am! Gasp! Ugh!”
QV: “Now, where’s that igniter man gone?”
Equerry [puzzled]: “Majesty?”
QV: “You know, that little ponce who sets my wind aflame!”
Equerry: “Erm… I know not, Your Majesty.”
QV: “Gawd help us! Now, where’s that bleedin’ matchbox gone?”
Equerry: “Here, Ma’am.”
QV: “Hold onto yer sideboards, Equerry, me old son!”
[Sound of a match being struck. Then an explosion.]
QV: “Argh! Oh, me ring-piece! It’s ablaze! Oh, I’m done for! Lawks a-mercy!”
Equerry [splutters]: “Your Majesty! Oh! Guards! Footmen! Summon the Royal Physician! Immediately, I say!!”
[Sounds of footmen scuttling away, and QV collapsing.]
QV: “Ooh! Me Kyber*! It’s red raw, I tell yer! Bloody Nora!”
Equerry: “Help is on its way, Ma’am! Your Doctor is –”
QV: “Too late! I’m a goner! Orf to join me beloved ‘usband Prince Albert up in heaven, I am!”
Equerry: “Your Maj! Where’s that blasted doctor?”
QV [croaking]: “Ooh, me ‘aris*! Equerry!”
Equerry: “Yes, Majesty?”
QV [croaking]: “Why didn’t you talk me out of it, you dappy sod?”
Equerry [wounded]: “But I only served you, your Majesty!  I –!”
QV [croaking]: “You’re a toilet, son. A dirty, dirty khazi!”
[Sound of Doctor arriving.]
Doctor [poshly]: “Here! I’m here! Now, what seems to be the matter, hmm?”
QV: “Lor! Love a duck! I’m done for, doc! I tried lighting me own farts and it must’ve blown back up me Royal pooper! It feels like me innards are a-fire! Oh, I’m not long for this world!”
Doctor: “Stuff and nonsense, Your Majesty! Why, it’ll be the work of a moment to apply a calming balm to the Royal rectum! Just let me unscrew the lid, and slip on my anus soothing gloves and –”
Equerry: “Too late.”
Doctor: “What?”
Equerry [mournfully]: “She’s dead! Alas! O, sovereign of the Empire on which the sun shall never set! O, Queen of Queens! O –”
Doctor: “O, Queen of Hearts, Tarts and – it seems – Farts? Yes, I think we’ve got the idea. But what shall we do now, Equerry?”
Equerry: “Well, the Queen has died! We must alert the other members of the Royal Family! We must fly the Union Jack at half mast! There’s a Royal Funeral to organise and souvenir tea towels to manufacture!”
Doctor: “Hmm. Or we could replace her.”
Equerry [outraged]: “What?! What are you suggesting, man?”
Doctor [abruptly non-posh]: “I’m saying, why don’t you dress up as the Queen and carry on, pretending to be her for, ooh, I dunno, another 13 years or so.”
Equerry: “You want me to impersonate the Queen? Have you taken leave of your senses, man?”
Doctor: “Nah. You see, old Queen Vic here was supposed to die in 1901. So, we can’t have her snuffing it in 1888 – especially not in a lighting-her-own-guffs fatality – now, can we?”
Equerry: “Well, no. But what do you mean, she was supposed to die in 1901?”
Doctor: “Ah! Well, that’s the original history, y’see. In the future that I come from, Queen Vic copped it in 1901, not 1888. So, one of us is gonna have to dress up as her for 13 years so that history won’t notice. And, let’s face it, it’s gonna be you, Equerry. Besides, we can’t let it be known that she spoke in a Cockney brogue, can we?”
Equerry: “What? Egad, sir! You claim to be from the future?”
Doctor: “Yep. Truth be told, I’m not even a quack. I’m from the year 2025. And I work for the Chronology Preservation™ Agency. This is just another mission for me. My name is O’Haggis.”
Equerry: “But…! This is fantastical, sir! You expect me to believe…?”
Doctor: “You suit yourself, pal. Now, with any luck, that wax cylinder you’ve left running –”
Equerry: “Oh! I’d forgotten about that contraption!”
Doctor: “No worries. With any luck, it’ll be stuck on a shelf and left to rot, and the sound quality will deteriorate until some bright spark in the 21st Century decides to clean it up so they can hear what happened here today, as we speak.”
Equerry: “You mean, it has to be preserved, forgotten about, then rediscovered and cause you to travel back in time in the first place?”
Doctor: “Yup. That’s about the size of it. Now, go get Vicky’s clobber on and start acting regally.”

THE END

Notes:
Queen Victoria’s voice really was recorded on wax cylinder in 1888.
* Khyber = Khyber pass, rhymes with arse.
* Aris = Aristotle = bottle = bottle and glass, rhymes with arse.

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