Nepal’s Monarchists Want a King to Save Them from the Horror of Too Many Rights

Bring Back the Crown! We’re Tired of This “Freedom” Nonsense

Nepal’s monarchists are back, whining like kids who lost their kite at Dashain, begging for a king to save them from democracy’s wild mess. Too many rights, too many loudmouths—it’s all too much! They want Gyanendra Shah to stumble out of hiding, slap on his crown, and smack away our freedoms so we can go back to the good old days: no opposition, no newspapers, just a king banning shit left and right. Genius move—why fix Nepal’s 2025 madness when you can just outlaw complaining about it? Crown him up, boys, what’s the worst that could happen?

Nepal’s monarchy was never about helping us—it was about keeping us on a leash. The Ranas (1846–1951), those greasy-haired goons, turned Nepal into their own little tyrant playground. Education? Nope—can’t have us reading. Free speech? Nope—shut up or rot in jail. Rights? Ask, and you’d be tied up faster than a goat at a butcher’s. By ’51, only 5% of us could read—perfect, because who needs a revolution when you can’t even write “help”? Then the Shah kings rolled in, giggling, “Let’s ban more!” Mahendra killed parties in ’60, Gyanendra axed democracy in ’05 like he was swatting a fly. These guys banned stuff so hard, they’d have outlawed sunshine if it didn’t kiss their royal asses first.

Gyanendra Shah didn’t even audition for king—he tripped into it after the 2001 royal family massacre turned into a horror show. By 2005, he was done with democracy’s chatter, so he went full dictator mode: dissolved parliament (who needs those clowns?), locked up leaders (too noisy), banned the press (truth’s messy). What’d we get? 1,400 in jail, newspapers gone, and streets full of folks chucking bricks, yelling, “Gyaney chor desh chhod” By ’06, we didn’t just kick him out—in ’08, we burned the whole monarchy down like a bad ex’s love letters. Now, with MPs throwing punches and veggie prices hitting the roof in 2025, some nutjobs want this guy back? Please, you royal bootlickers are dumber than a bag of hammers.

If Nepal resurrects this monarchy crap, what’s Gyanendra banning next? He’s nailed the hits: education (brains breed trouble), free speech (words hurt), elections (kings don’t grovel). In 2025, he’d probably ban WhatsApp leaks of MPs slugging it out, or tax us for breathing Kathmandu’s smog-soup air. Picture it: “Royal Decree: No whining about Melamchi’s ghost pipes—lap up the mud, peasants!” Nepal’s youth are fleeing to Dubai faster than rats off a sinking raft—give ’em a king, and he’ll ban passports, claiming “loyalty’s hotter than remittance cash.” Our laws? Scribbled in royal drool while potholes mock us and jobs vanish. Sign me up—said no sane bastard ever.

Here come the Rastriya Prajatantra Party (RPP)—Nepal’s weepy monarchy cheer squad. They’re awful at elections—7 out of 165 seats in ’22, losing worse than a drunk guy betting on buffalo races. With Nepal stuck in 2025’s circus—politicians slugging it out on live TV, prices turning rice into a luxury—they’ve decided democracy’s too tricky. Their big idea? Cry for a king to hand them the win. These losers are so pathetic, they’d crown a stray dog if it barked “Hindu kingdom.” Sorry, boys, Nepal’s too busy dodging coalition flops to care about your royal hard-on.

Kings used to think education was poison—5% literacy meant we were too dumb to riot. Now, monarchists moan that democracy’s a headache: parliament’s a fistfight, tomatoes cost more than your rent, and half the country’s youth are slinging coffee in Dubai. We kicked kings out twice, fought for this hot mess, and won it fair and square. The RPP wants us crawling back because thinking’s hard? That’s not just stupid—it’s a slap to every Nepali who’s ever dodged a falling bridge. They’d ban the news tomorrow if it meant a king, while we’re stuck haggling for onions. Get real, you crown-loving saps.

Monarchy’s dead, and no RPP tears or sappy nostalgia will bring it back. Nepal’s 2025 is a grind—MPs swinging fists, jobs vanishing, air so thick you’d think Kathmandu’s roasting itself—but a king’s as useful as a fart in a fan factory. To the monarchists, royalists, and RPP daydreamers: slap on your big fat L crown and waddle off. We’re done with your sad little fantasy—go cry into your royal fanfic while we dodge traffic and pray for cheaper chiya. Kings don’t fix shit; they just sit on it and stink.