Prince Harry, the royal family’s current media tart and third in line to the throne, is back in the news. He has allegedly been caught cheating at Eton and he has just been inducted into Sandhurst – the place where good British boys go to be taught the skills of killing. He was photographed arriving at the college carrying, among other things, an ironing board. His late great grandmother, the Queen Mother; whose main claim to fame was her enormous capacity to drink Gilbey’s Gin, had never seen an ironing board until she was well into her 80s when one of her servants asked her for one for Christmas. “What’s that?” she asked.
Poor Harry. He’s a glaring example of what’s wrong with the royal family. As a younger son whose chances of becoming king are remote – even if the monarchy in Britain does survive – he should be cut loose and left alone to get on with his life, as the gorgeous Diana would have wanted. Calling a boy of his age “your royal highness” beggars belief in this day and age, but there are women here and elsewhere who would willingly demean themselves by dropping a curtsey to him, as a downstairs maid did to her mistress two centuries ago.
Let the boy do as he will – wear a Nazi uniform in deference to his Hanoverian ancestors, get a pass in art by whatever means necessary, and become the best shot in the country. But please, let him do all that in private. Do we really need to know? And do we really care?
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