Once vindictive people get their knives into something, they never know when to stop. For over 500 years this man had been maligned, attacked, mocked and ridiculed--none moreso than by the Tudor propagandists and Shakespeare. They called him a monster--hunchbacked, small of stature, and with a withered arm. One wonders what The Bard would have made of Bush and Blair, who instead of riding out like Richard to meet his enemies face-to-face, sent out others to die instead?
Now, the truth is out. We are still reeling from the joys of yesterday, of watching the investigation as it slowly unfolded. Not a monster at all but a handsome six-footer, who suffered from curvature of the spine--so did Liz Taylor, and they never mocked her.
I should imagine it's going to be difficult from now on, staging the Shakespeare play, though doubtless there will be the naysayers who will disbelieve the findings. Piaf sang, in 'Et pourtant', about the little lost dog that always pisses on your parade.
As for Philippa Langley, the lady who made all of this possible. If they can award a knighthood to a cyclist who won the Tour de France and a gong at the Olympics and a damehood to an athlete (dozens of others have been ignored), then surely we can have a Dame Philippa?