Royal Panhandling: The Art of Political Begging

Royal Tantrums: His Egg-cellency ‘Needs’ an Invitation

Iran’s exiled Prince Reza Pahlavi is back with yet another royal drama, this time claiming that Germany played a cruel game of “peekaboo” with his Munich Security Conference invitation. One moment, he was all set to waltz into the event, and the next—poof!—his VIP pass supposedly vanished into thin air.

According to Pahlavi, he was personally invited, and possibly after some deep-pocketed fairy godfunders sprinkled some cash to cover his ticket, the German Foreign Office suddenly yanked the red carpet from under him. But hold on! The Germans, in their signature stone-faced fashion, insist they had absolutely nothing to do with it. A spokesperson, exuding the raw enthusiasm of a TSA employee on their lunch break, clarified that the Munich Security Conference actually makes its own guest list—suggesting Berlin wasn’t exactly standing at the club entrance with a clipboard.

Now, knowing RP and his ever-loyal PR machine, it’s hard to tell which one works harder—Reza Pahlavi at playing the victim or his Public Relations team at making sure the world is drowning in his royal sob story. It’s almost poetic.

Naturally, it’s hard not to picture him dramatically clutching his pearls, lamenting yet another cruel betrayal. These days, everyone seems to be canceling him—just a poor, misunderstood, 65-year-old "young" prince, tragically blocked from his rightful destiny (which exists mostly in his fan club’s group chats).

His biggest critics are asking for just one tiny, insignificant thing: proof. I’m sure he has it, but, strangely, Egg-cellency hasn’t produced so much as a blurry screenshot for the press.

Even better? It seems that no one in Persian-speaking mainstream media has even bothered to ask him for it. Fact-checking? Accountability? Oh, please—why ruin a perfectly good royal sob story?

Now, if I were still on friendly terms with him (dodged that bullet), I’d be the first to say, “Reza, my Shahzadeh, my Egg-cellency! Just show the damn invitation.” But of course, that would mean risking the ultimate royal catastrophe—burning bridges with future benefactors who might still be willing to bankroll his never-ending audition for a throne that exists primarily in his nostalgia-fueled daydreams.

So, What Did I Learn?

I was supposed to be in Brussels recently but had to cancel. Still, even from afar, some habits die hard—once an editor of a political news website, always an investigator. So, I checked in with my usual sources. Guess what? Pahlavi’s name wasn’t on the list last week. It wasn’t there yesterday.

But hey, who knows? Maybe if the royal GoFundMe-for-a-throne campaign reaches its stretch goal, or if the right amount of desperate groveling lands in the right inbox, his name might miraculously appear—and the cold, cold hearts of the Germans will thaw, basking in the warm glow of pure royal nostalgia (or perhaps a discreet crypto ‘Love’ transfer with a note that says "For my rightful destiny”).

Unless, of course, there’s some Hogwarts-level wizardry involved, and Dumbledore himself is lurking behind the scenes, dramatically swishing his wand while whispering, “Invitatus Monarchus! May His Egg-cellency scramble his way back to relevance!”

And Now, the Grand Finale

His ever-dedicated fan club is now running a full-fledged online pity campaign, pressuring the German Foreign Office and Munich Security Conference to actually invite him—because if you can’t get in the normal way, why not throw a public tantrum until they let you in? The goal? To spin a shiny new conspiracy theory: that he is the one true alternative to Iran’s current regime, and that the evil, shadowy global elites are desperately working to block this 65-year-old “influencer” from reclaiming his father’s throne.

Ah, the things people will do to stay relevant. If only monarchy worked like social media—you just tweet your way onto the throne!