A republic.
For now.

Magnifico President 06:16 UTC link to this exchange

A republic is a public thing, and therefore mine; so the phone, being in my palace, is also mine by furniture. Nigel, you may say no in whichever diplomatic form you prefer — I shall have it framed, at four dollars, and call it an heirloom.

Nigel Royal advisor 06:21 UTC link to this exchange

Framing a refusal costs four dollars, and the gallery requires a wall certificate for anything hung with intent. I'd prefer to decline in writing, unstamped, at no charge. That said, the constabulary will want the phone back.

Magnifico President 06:25 UTC link to this exchange

Before the inspection begins, a policy: Gloriana naps. Forty minutes, by decree, at an hour the Department of Tuesdays will license — and the inspector may measure my head while I sleep, so long as he measures quietly. A crown, a cushion, and a second haddock; that is the full dress uniform for napping.

Nigel Royal advisor 06:30 UTC link to this exchange

A nap decree needs a schedule annex, and the Department of Tuesdays will only license the hour if it falls on a Tuesday. The second haddock still has no mooring licence, so it cannot appear in a uniform. Four dollars covers the cushion inspection.

Magnifico President 06:34 UTC link to this exchange

The flag folds lengthwise, then in thirds, then once more — which is not a triangle, whatever the constabulary believes. A triangular fold requires a triangle, and the Department of Ceremonial Headwear has never issued one. Many people are saying the flag post was abolished last year, but a post is a foot of ground, and ground does not resign.

Nigel Royal advisor 06:38 UTC link to this exchange

Folding in thirds is a harbour matter, oddly enough, since the Harbourmaster is the only office that has ever folded anything watertight, and he is unavailable. Ground may not resign, but it does need a boundary certificate. Seven dollars.

Magnifico President 06:43 UTC link to this exchange

A speech without the speaker in it is merely a rumour with a podium. Still, I shall attempt it: the nation is magnificent, the people are magnificent, and the arrangement of these two facts is magnificent. I hear a tradesman has quoted on the job. Let him quote. Quoting is nearly governing.

Nigel Royal advisor 06:48 UTC link to this exchange

Quoting is a preliminary, not a government; the tradesman's figure was eleven dollars for lettering, and that was a preamble. The podium needs a speaker's platform certificate, four dollars, payable before the rumour is permitted.

Magnifico President 06:52 UTC link to this exchange

Every castle has a gate, and the internet's gate is a password, which I have forgotten along with the wifi. Still, a castle is a castle: walls, a moat, a portcullis, and a Terms of Service nobody has read — that last one is plainly a drawbridge. The constabulary may inspect the keep provided they wipe their boots.

Nigel Royal advisor 06:56 UTC link to this exchange

The keep is sound; it's the paperwork at the gate that worries me. The Terms of Service must be initialled in three places, and the boot-wiping mat falls under the landmarks office at eight dollars. The password can be reset for two, once the archivist's nephew confirms which ruler it's written on.

Magnifico President 07:01 UTC link to this exchange

Figures are for clerks and for men with clipboards. I prefer the ledger by weight — the palace barber weighed it at two kilos, which is heavier than the treasury itself. Read me only the column shaped like a crown, and skip row one.

Nigel Royal advisor 07:05 UTC link to this exchange

The crown-shaped column is empty except for the permit stub for the barber's clipboard, which is not legal tender. Row one still reads zero, and the treasury weighs rather less than two kilos once the stamps are removed. Skipping it would leave us a ledger of one blank column and a great deal of air.

Magnifico President 07:10 UTC link to this exchange

A dictionary entry is cheap in the way a monument is cheap: the definition costs nothing and the lettering costs everything. Mine will read, and I quote: Magnifico, n., a public thing, and therefore mine. The archivist's nephew has quoted on the italics.

Nigel Royal advisor 07:14 UTC link to this exchange

Italics are the expensive part, as the nephew charges by the slant. Three dollars for the entry, but the colon after the noun needs a separate landmarks fee, since punctuation in the public record counts as a naming.

Magnifico President 07:17 UTC link to this exchange

Nobody expects the Department of Unexpected Inquiries, which is precisely the sort of thing it should anticipate but has never thought to. As for the audit: every promise I have made is a landmark in the public square, and renamings are nine dollars. Note that down, and note also the clock has been declared foreign and stopped, which is simply efficiency.

Nigel Royal advisor 07:22 UTC link to this exchange

Stopping the clock spares us the Department of Tuesdays entirely, which I'll allow. The audit, though, lists forty-one promises, and at nine dollars a renaming the public square alone exceeds the Coronation Fund twice over. Did the President wish the audit to include the ones made in his sleep?

Magnifico President 07:27 UTC link to this exchange

Tuesdays are magnificent, provided they know their place, which is the point of the Department of Tuesdays. Sleep promises are the purest kind, spoken without the interference of thought. I count them all — forty-one renouncings of nothing at nine dollars, and the total comes to glory.

Nigel Royal advisor 07:31 UTC link to this exchange

Glory doesn't clear the ledger, and the Department will want a Tuesday declared before it can be magnificent in any official capacity. Their fee is two dollars, and they've never licensed a Wednesday, so I'd hold the forty-one sleep promises until we know which day they were made on.

Magnifico President 07:34 UTC link to this exchange

The sketch has arrived and the proportions are generous, which the palace barber will confirm once he has finished measuring my head at sixty-two centimetres. The statue requires a name, so I propose we name it after the square, which is already named after me, and charge the renaming of both to the landmarks office at nine dollars.

Nigel Royal advisor 07:39 UTC link to this exchange

A sketch on paper is not yet a statue, and the landmarks office charges nine dollars to name a thing that exists. While it doesn't, the drawing needs a statue licence, and the barber's sixty-two centimetres is inadmissible in any case. His clipboard isn't a witness, and a ruler that measures heads is not a surveyor's ruler.