Edward VIII was quite right, but not about the bubbles

THE news that 18 dental X-rays of King George VI were to come up for auction, cleared up one aspect of the royal stammer which came to public attention in the Oscar-winning movie The King's Speech.

While the X-rays themselves were withdrawn after objections from the palace, an expert confirmed "the King's teeth were not the cause for his famous speech impediment", according to The Telegraph.

Which was pretty much the conclusion the film arrived at. The blame was laid at the door of his stern father, King George V, who forced the southpaw Bertie to become right-handed and sorted out his knock knees with steel calipers. George V, who has a top-of-the-line blended whisky from Johnnie Walker named after him, would view his offspring with Queen Mary at special "visiting times", rather like exhibits in a zoo.

I'd have thought he was shrewd enough to realise that Bertie, Duke of York, was the best candidate for the throne after fate dealt him a philandering eldest son David, Prince of Wales, with strong fascist sympathies. His third-youngest, George, Duke of Kent, seems to have been a bisexual drug addict who had a long-running affair with playwright Noel Coward, while his youngest, John, was an epileptic who was kept from view and died aged 13.

Cultural commentator Christopher Hitchens has pointed out that the film whitewashes Winston Churchill. Rather than being a friend to Bertie, he was anti-abdication and "a consistent friend of conceited, spoiled, Hitler-sympathising Edward VIII". The woman for whom David was to renounce the throne (settling a constitutional crisis that occasioned the king's speech), American divorcee Wallis Simpson, is portrayed as the wicked witch from the west.

You knew she was a bad 'un when she sent her lover the king to the cellar when the champagne ran out; for, like that queen of the silver screen, Elizabeth Taylor, Simpson drank only bubbly - even if Taylor did highlight the downside of her addiction to novelist Truman Capote: "I really like only champagne. The trouble is it gives you permanently bad breath."

The scene shifts to the cellar with the king scouring the racks for a bottle of 1923. "Only the best for Wallis," he says to Bertie. Except it wasn't. Berry Brothers & Rudd - who know about these things - vouch that 1921 was the vintage to go for. They score it 10/10, although it is now flagged "SA"- showing age.

Back in 1936 it would have been a sprightly 15, optimal drinking for a vintage Grande Marque, one would have thought. As for 1923, "average" is the verdict from several sources; 1921 was the best of the '20s with 1928 (rated 9/10) and 1929 (8/10) next best. Both were less than a decade old in 1936, not yet complex enough for the crystal flutes of Wallis and her doomed generation as they tripped the light fantastic at Balmoral.

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