THAT pic of ex-Prince Andrew

There are photographs, and then there are Photographs — the sort that attach themselves to a public figure like a burr to tweed. The much-circulated image ofex-Prince Andrew  — red-eyed, chin receding into the lower hemisphere, camera angled somewhere near his sinus cavity — has been declared “iconic.” Iconic! As though it were the Mona Lisa rather than a badly timed flash shot.

Let us be honest: who among us has not been betrayed by a camera? The red-eye effect alone has transformed generations of otherwise decent citizens into fugitives from a Victorian melodrama. One minute you’re at a wedding buffet; the next, you resemble a suspect being sketched by a nervous constable. Lighting conspires, lenses distort, and gravity — that most democratic of forces — tugs mercilessly at the jawline.

Photography, particularly in the smartphone era, is less an art than a statistical inevitability. If you take enough pictures of anyone, eventually you will capture their “Jack the Ripper” angle. Nostril-forward. Pupils aflame. Expression hovering between indigestion and existential dread. It proves nothing except that the shutter was quicker than dignity.

Yet public appetite insists on meaning. A red eye becomes a metaphor. A shadow becomes guilt. An upward tilt becomes character analysis. We behave as though the camera were a moral instrument rather than a small glass disc with a fondness for harsh lighting. In truth, most so-called “iconic” images are simply the confluence of bad timing and worse angles.