Some of the reaction to Harry and Meghan’s decision to step back from their royal roles has been hysterical, writes Susan Morrison.
One young dad has landed himself in a bit of hot water. He simply announced that he and his family didn’t want to live with granny any more. He didn’t tell her, or consult with her, apparently, although why a fully-grown man failing to run his life decisions past his nan is worthy of a week of solid news coverage is a bit of a mystery to me.
He’s a royal. Seems to have some bearing on the matter. No idea why.
He’s 35 for heaven’s sake. He’s got a wife and a baby, which he probably puts in one of those front carriers and slouches around a palace or two, trying to engage footmen in light chitchat about the best way to deal with colic.
If he wants to go and live in Canada, then off you trot, my lad.
Bits of the media have been hysterical. You’d think it was Abdication 2 – Crisis Comeback. Nicholas Witchell nearly froze solid outside Buckingham Palace. Only nearly though. Pity.
This isn’t the Middle Ages, when stepping down as a senior royal was a serious business. It was usually because you were fleeing a battlefield where you were coming in second.
This isn’t a Shakespearean tragedy. Just because my Lord of Sussex has decided to live abroad for a bit doesn’t mean that my noble Duke of Cambridge must raise an army and stop him at the departure gate. You wouldn’t get those swords past security anyway.
Incidentally, the uncle of said prince was rumbled recently for hanging out with some seriously questionable people.
He tried to dismiss his dodgy past in a blazing Kirkgate litter bin of an interview, remember? He’s just vanished from sight. Wonder what happened to him whilst we were all distracted? Hmmm . . . perhaps this is more Shakespearean than I thought.