Royally Taboo: What If Prince George Grew Up Gay—and Kinky?

Buckle up, Britain—the monarchy just got a scandalous theatrical makeover. Prince Faggot, a daring new play by Canadian playwright Jordan Tannahill, throws the royal family into an alternate future where Prince George—the actual future King of England—is not just gay but proudly immersed in a world of kink, BDSM, and radical queer liberation.

Yes, you read that right.

Set in the year 2032, the play imagines Prince George at 19 years old, fully grown and fully unwilling to play by the monarchy’s rules. The fictional George has fallen for Dev, a South Asian dominatrix and activist, and together they navigate a relationship that’s equal parts romantic, subversive, and wildly NSFW.

This is no lighthearted palace romp. The production is loaded with explicit sex, bondage scenes, drug use, and political reckoning. And it’s not just provocative for the sake of scandal, it’s a sharp, unrelenting commentary on colonialism, class privilege, race, sexuality, and the suffocating expectations placed on anyone unlucky enough to be born royal.

From the jump, Prince Faggot dares to ask: What does it mean to carry the weight of a nation when your very existence defies every expectation of tradition? How does a queer person, let alone one born into the gilded cage of monarchy, carve out autonomy and dignity in a world that fetishizes their pain and performance?

The play’s title alone triggered headlines before it even opened. But don’t be fooled into thinking this is cheap provocation. Tannahill isn’t just poking the bear—he’s dissecting the entire zoo. The script interrogates how the monarchy relies on spectacle and repression, and how queer bodies, especially those marked by racial difference, are both fetishized and erased by dominant culture.

Dev, George’s lover, is more than just a romantic foil. His presence forces the young prince to confront the colonial legacies of his own family and the performative nature of his royal existence. Together, their relationship is equal parts romance and resistance.

Audiences should be prepared for scenes that make even the most jaded theatergoer squirm, graphic depictions of BDSM, needles, sex toys, and plenty of leather. But underneath the spectacle is something raw and earnest: a young man struggling to shed the suffocating skin of an empire he was born to inherit.

Critics are split. Some praise the play’s audacity and its refusal to flinch in the face of taboo, while others argue it veers toward provocation without enough character depth. Still, even its detractors admit that Prince F**t hits a nerve, forcing conversations about race, queerness, colonial guilt, and the very relevance of the monarchy in the modern age.

Is it art? Is it protest? Is it pornography? Maybe it’s all three. But one thing’s for sure, this is a play that leaves no one sitting comfortably in their seat.

Whether you find it offensive, inspiring, or wildly inappropriate, Prince F**t is a blistering reminder that the crown, like everything else, eventually gets handed down to a new generation, one that may not be willing to play by the old rules.