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CLEMMIE MOODIE
SO the former Army man has finally pulled the pin – and detonated the Royal Family.
After months of digs, hints and prods, Prince Harry has finally gone for it.
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Yup, in the latest trailer for his explosive Netflix docuseries, he has slandered the monarchy in spectacular technicolour, accusing a nefarious third party of actively covering up for his brother.
“They were happy to lie to protect my brother (William). They were never willing to tell the truth to protect us”, he growls.
Who, precisely, “they” are remains to be seen.
But we can probably assume it’s the royal PR machine, the decently paid aides behind Palace doors.
The men and women whom — much like smear tests, the dentist and electricity bills — we all happily pretended didn’t exist.
Men and women deployed specifically to protect the image and regulation of palace inhabitants.
Well, William should probably be demanding a refund because, in one fell swoop, his baby brother has unearthed the dirty machinations of royal life and sullied the brand the second-in-line has been working so hard to keep whiter than white.
(Which is ironic given Meghan and Harry have also accused the Royal Family of being racist monsters).
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The biggest problem here is that for years the British public has bumbled along believing the royals are decent, hard-working people . . . and what you see is what you get.
The idea that the Royal Family is no better than fame-hungry starlets — paying teams of people to make them look good — is galling.
In showbiz, I’ve seen first-hand agents lie, celebs do backhanders and unpalatable deals getting done in order to maintain relationships.
Reputations have been saved, marriages maintained, affairs kept secret.
It can be grubby work. But, well, it’s showbiz.
These are celebrities, they’re not taxpayer-funded royals, born into a position of privilege.
Harry makes his brother look no better than a lesser cast member of Hollyoaks.
It shatters the veneer of royal life.
When Harry and Meghan quit the monarchy, they pledged to uphold the late Queen’s values.
They were expected to follow the Nolan principles of public life, seven standards governing the behaviour of people in public office.
These principles are selflessness, integrity, objectivity, accountability, openness, honesty and leadership.
By laying bare such a royal secret, exposing it as a sordid way of life, he has shattered the integrity of an entire institution.
In signing a £100million deal with Netflix to tell his story, to break his open privacy, in absolutely no way is Harry displaying objectivity or, well, selflessness.
If they can retain their titles after this remains to be seen.
Of course, Harry would also argue that this is his truth, and therefore he’s being honest, open and, perhaps quite rightly, holding his family to account.
Having ploughed my way through the first three episodes, I have far more sympathy with him and his wife than I imagined. Harry was living in a cage, albeit gilded.
And given how the pair has driven the news agenda over the past few weeks — and here I am wanging on about them for a second consecutive week — their ploy to get “seen” is clearly working.
At times Meghan comes across as charismatic, bright and sparky.
(Poor Kate Middleton, maintaining a dignified silence, must be hating every nanosecond).
There’s also no disputing the couple are deeply in love. But they remain blindly ignorant to the opportunities, still ongoing, Harry’s birthright has provided.
In another clip, Harry is seen grinning into the camera from a plane, saying: “We are on the freedom flight!” (A private freedom flight, presumably.)
He and Meghan weren’t fleeing war-torn Lviv. The lack of perspective is shocking.
Netflix is a big organisation. It has lawyers. Lawyers who would have gone through these transcripts with a fine-toothed comb.
Harry must, it can be assumed, have proof of his various claims.
This, surely is the beginning of the end of his and William’s relationship.
LAST week Harry and Meghan went on stage to accept a human rights award.
The intrepid duo took time out of their busy schedule slating the Royal Family and accusing Brits of being racist to be hero-grammed for their mental health and racial justice work.
Harry and Meghan are, after all, nothing if not principled.
So then, the event was hosted by Alec Baldwin.
A man who allegedly shot dead his co-worker and once called his daughter a pig.
And nothing screams “human rights peace award” like . . .
STUNT ADDED STRAIN
JUST when the NHS thought things couldn’t get any worse, along pops Richard Madeley on the front line.
Sleeves rolled up and tie tucked in – “tucking my tie in wasn’t compulsory, but I’ve done it myself just in case” – Richard rocked up at poor Whiston hospital in Merseyside to highlight the strain being put on A&E departments nationwide.
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While, er, presumably putting significant strain on A&E thanks to a camera crew, barking producers and a six-strong panel set up in front of reception to discuss the perils of the NHS.
Seamless, guys, seamless.
IT has emerged nurses may be given bodycam recorders to help keep them safe.
Which is not so much a damning indictment on the NHS, but us, the “great” British public.
A trial in Oxford has found that nurses feel safer from aggressive patients as a result of cameras worn on their uniforms.
Health Secretary Steve Barclay has raised the possibility with union leaders as he looks for ways to improve nurses’ working conditions without increasing the government’s pay offer.
It’s yet more evidence that nurses have one of the toughest – and most under-appreciated – gigs in Britain.
MAIL’S A BIG FAIL
CAN someone please tell me the point of Royal Mail?
Not only does it now cost a week’s rent to send a letter first class, it also takes about a year to get to the recipient. If it gets there at all.
Which, invariably, it doesn’t.
Now that the only post any of us ever receive basically comes in the form of miserable brown envelopes (parking fines, council tax or cheery notes from HMRC), why do we need snail mail at all?
With 18 strikes planned this year, of all the striking industries, Royal Mail is the only one that will have virtually zero impact.
Clobber’s up the Creek
NOW, I’m all for a bit of comfort over style. But no, Katie Holmes, no.
The Dawson’s Creek star has taken it back to the early 2000s with this “look” – in the loosest sense of the word – of a dress over frayed jeans, teamed with trainers.
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Terrifyingly, style bible Vogue reckons it’s a trend that’s here to stay.
Not in Wigan it’s not.
Thanks, Rob
THANKS to Robbie Williams and Ayda Field for this year’s quirkiest Christmas gift.
The couple surprised me with a delivery yesterday – a bottle of champagne, a signed Robbie CD . . . and a pair of Rob’s socks.
Used. From Ayda’s own range of gym kit.
Brilliant.
£12k? JOG ON, DIOR…
FRANKLY, anyone who buys this deserves to fall right off the back of it.
Dior has released a £12,000 treadmill (and £900 blow-up ball . . . to bounce on?) just in time for Christmas.
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The French fashion house describes the limited-edition machine as “elegant, user-friendly, intuitive and quiet”, adding it “offers the ultimate running experience”.
Which is basically one massive oxymoron.
“GOBLIN mode” is the Oxford English Dictionary’s word of the year.
For the uninitiated, the official dictionary definition is “unapologetically self-indulgent, lazy, slovenly, or greedy, typically in a way that rejects social norms or expectations”.
Think: No make-up, greasy hair, tracksuit bottoms and some sort of lard stain. Bonus points for crusted food around the mouth and a matted dreadlock.
Never has a phrase spoken to me more.
Ingenious advice
THE UK Health Security Agency has played a blinder.
The official government body has, once again, saved the day with some prescient advice.
“Keep your bedroom windows closed at night”, it warned ahead of this chilly snap.
Ingenious.
WOKE’S A JOKE
HAVE you ever heard anything more civil servanty?
The Blob have been ordered to call their Christmas parties “festive celebrations” in an attempt to avoid offending other faiths.
In another move to promote diversity and inclusion, officials have been told they cannot booze if one team member is teetotal.
Poor Jesus.
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All that effort turning water into wine.
And 2,000 years later here we are, joylessly necking H20 on his special day.