Did you waste 60 minutes of your life last night? Me too. I know the Americans like to lay the emotion on with a trowel, but I thought last night was suitable only for the brain-damaged.
So here are the big revelations.
Harry’s da didn’t take his phone-calls at one point.
An unnamed royal asked about what colour Archie’s skin might be when he slid into the world.
Kate made Meghan cry, not the other way round.
Meghan contemplated suicide.
Meghan never felt so lonely as when she was a royal’s spouse.
Shall we consider each one in turn? Resisting an urge to shout “Who fucking cares!”, I will.
Harry’s da was out of communication for a while.
Maybe he was in the garden talking to a plant. Maybe he was looking at his present wife and wondering if it mightn’t have been better to stick with the first one. Maybe he was counting his money. (Yes, Virginia, he has loadsamoney.
Archie’s skin-tone.
So they wondered if the kid would be dark or light. So? Did you expect them to ignore the question? Don’t forget Harry’s grandpa has been flinging around racist remarks most of his life. “Are you still throwing spears?” – to an Australian aborigine. “If you stay much longer you’ll get slitty eyes” – to a group of British students in China. “How do you keep them sober long enough to do the test?” – to Scottish driving instructor. My God, Philip, you are a one.
Kate made Meghan cry.
That’s nothing. I was sobbing with boredom, whimpering “Make it stop!” towards the end of the hour.
Meghan contemplated suicide.
I’m going to pass on that, apart from saying I don’t believe her.
Meghan felt awfully lonely in the royal family.
Should she not have been worrying if she felt right at home? Think about it – Prince Andy. Prince Philip. Prince Charles. What’s that other one – Edward, was it? ‘Strewth. If you felt at home with that lot, you’d be wise not to try operating heavy machinery.
Harry and Meghan live in a £10 million-plus house in Montecito, California. I’ve been there – to Montecito, not H and M’s house. It’s really lovely, but its hotel prices would make your eyes water. And that’s the run-down section of it.
The royals can justify their existence only on the grounds that they’re a living fairy tale or maybe an EastEnders-style soap opera would be more appropriate. It is now, however, the most boring, pointless, fake and utterly unabsorbing bunch of presumptuous prats, wandering around wasting good oxygen.
Make it stop. Please. Make it stop…
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