For one of Her Majesty's far-flung subjects, who hails from the pioneer stump ranch community of Beaver Creek, British Columbia, I have always admired the name, Beaverbrook. Lord Beaverbrook chose it for himself when he was raised to the peerage because no appellation could more perfectly symbolise his British-Canadian roots. And so it was a natural fit when I started this blog in 2005.

Baby Beaverbrook has been in need of my affection and tenderness as of late, hence the lameness of postings over the past couple of weeks. A few things I have missed, and would like to have commented sooner:

1. William of Oz: Professor David Flint, the leading monarchist Down Under, noticed our April 21 post urging Prince William to marry an Australian, which Cato believes would kill off the republic faster than you can say glossy magazine. I have said it before, and I will say it again: As Australia goes, so goes the rest of us. Unfortunately it is a point most loyalists don't seem to appreciate.

2. Wild for Harry: Meanwhile Canucks in Cow Town are wild for Harry. And Harry is wild for them. Especially the cowgirls in Calgary. If Oz gets William, we get Harry. The possibilities are intriguing for a future Royal Family.

3. James Bond: Finally saw Casino Royale on the weekend. Daniel Craig is Steve McQueen cool. I honestly believe him to be the best James Bond yet (I have never been a Sean Connery fan). I think the ladies dig him too - that's because he is quite possibly the first Double-O-Seven who sees women as worthwhile pursuits rather than disposable pleasures. Incidentally, having been born in 68, he is the first Bond to be born after the whole enterprise started in the early 60s. That also makes us the same age, though he may be a tad better built and better looking than I. Just a tad, mind you.

4. The Queen: And in case you thought I was a twit who doted on the monarchy, I finally caught The Queen last week. I thought the characters were cast quite well, except the grand old Duke of Edinburgh, who was miscast as some perpetually crass and grumpy stick in the mud, instead of the elegant gentleman we all know him to be. The film's director doesn't have a soft spot for Prince Philip, and it shows.

5. Lord Stanley: Not that I follow sports much any more (except the UFC, of which I am an increasingly devoted spectator), but Lord Stanley would not be amused at seeing the Mighty Ducks of Anaheim defeat the Ottawa Senators in the Stanley Cup final. Isn't that something, eh? A British Lord defined our greatest game. Would it be because we were all British once. I wonder.

6. Calling the King of Arms: Speaking of sports, the London logo for the 2012 Summer Olympics is causing people to experience epileptic seizures. It is pretty damn ugly, but that's what you get when you pay modernists to foist their insufferable and decrepit "art" on us. The Garter Principal or Lord Lyon King of Arms may sound like a stuffy anachronism, but at least he knows how to design timeless and heraldically appealing work. Kindly make better use of your in-house British talent. Sheesh.