Forget Prince Harry & Meghan Markle … bring on Mike & Zara Tindall
AH, Megan Markle: Damned if she did, damned if she didn’t.
Following months of frenzied, feverish speculation, Oprah’s best mate and her husband, Harry, graced the Platinum Jubilee with their presence. Albeit — mercifully — briefly.
Flying back — private jet, natch — an hour before Sunday night’s concert finale, the petulant pair stand accused of snubbing the Queen.
Over the course of this fun-filled, life-affirming weekend, Meghan has been accused of everything from smiling “too smugly” to “trying to outdo the Queen” by wearing custom Dior.
As if only a Juicy Couture trackie and some Crocs would have been acceptable.
Like her or loathe her, this was a battle she was never going to win.
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(As a side note, Harry and Meg did, however, have the good grace/nous to leave the Netflix cameras at home in sunny Montecito, California.)
By breaking the famous royal omertà, arguably the couple have become outsiders in their own family.
Their constant jabbering, accusations of racism, varying “recollections of memory” and Harry’s forthcoming, widely hyped tome, effectively a kiss ’n’ tell, have left them ostracised.
By preaching one thing — be it about climate change, global poverty or feminism — and then doing the polar opposite (the jets, the £11million, 16-bathroom mansion, clinging to the coat-tails of her Duchess title), Meghan hasn’t done herself any favours.
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And two A-level’d Harry, with talk of daily meditation and work stress, has shown himself similarly out of touch.
While the couple were honoured with a small procession at St Paul’s Cathedral, that pared-back balcony photo is one that paints a thousand words.
The Queen has set out her stall.
She wants a slimmed down, younger, fresher monarchy, one which will resonate with the great British public in ten, 20 or 100 years.
That means no deserters and definitely no Prince Andrew who, conveniently for us all, had Covid.
While H&M remained firmly in the background, another one-time royal outsider has stepped to the fore: Mike Tindall.
This is a man who infamously went to a drunken dwarf-tossing bash during the 2011 Rugby World Cup and who, as a former rugger bugger, has probably sunk more yards of ale and played more grossly inappropriate drinking games than 95 per cent of the population.
But here he was, easily interacting with Prince Louis and enthusiastically bandying around his little union flag during Saturday’s concert.
Royal peacemaker
He’s a man who’s so comfortable in his own semi-royal skin, he merrily matches his outfit with that of his wife, Zara, the Queen’s eldest granddaughter.
On day two of the Jubilee, he wore a pastel pink tie and, at one point, borrowed his wife’s pink and purple fascinator.
Last week he and William, with whom he has grown incredibly close, were seen laughing and bear-hugging.
He chatted to Meghan and Harry over the weekend — whom he still clearly likes — and has effectively been acting as royal peacemaker.
A devoted family man, he’s been pictured playing football with his eldest daughter, Mia, and swinging all three of his kids between the legs.
Since entering the royal fold he has barely put a giant size 12 boot wrong.
While he has a podcast, social media presence and once appeared on Channel 4’s The Jump, his anecdotes have been lighthearted and jovial.
No self-pitying calls for change or accusations of snobbery.
Both World Cup winner Mike, awarded an MBE in 2007, and Zara, an Olympic silver medallist horsewoman are successful in their own right.
With an ageing Prince Charles, who is looking more and more like Harry Enfield each day, it is vital that Mike and Zara are given more prominence.
As our elected leaders self-implode, our unelected ones must be given a chance to shine.
Little prince was the biggest Jubilee star
AND so a star was born.
By unanimous decision, little Louis Cambridge stole the show at the Jubilee.
But of all the hilarious, gurning, ear-covering, finger-pointing pics that emerged over the extended Bank Holiday weekend, undoubtedly this is my favourite.
Here he is looking like he’s at Cinderella’s nightclub at 2am, itching for a scrap with the bouncer.
Talking him down is sober mate/mum, Kate, restraining the lad and saying: “He’s not worth it, Louis, sit back down.”
Brilliant.
Family ruling dumb
AND here’s all that is wrong with social services.
Yorkshire shepherdess Amanda Owen says she was given a formal warning by local authorities for letting her kids do, ya know, kid things like climb trees and graze their knees.
The uber-wholesome mum of nine said: “I got a yellow flag from social services . . . I believe there is a happy medium whereby you do let the kids climb trees.
“Yes, they haven’t got harnesses on or hard hats, but I believe there are some lessons to be learned that don’t necessarily result in instant death but actually learn your own parameters.”
These are seemingly happy, hearty, outdoors-loving kids who live in a gorgeous farmhouse in the Yorkshire Dales.
Children who have a bevy of farmyard animals to play with, who deliberately aren’t spoiled with brain-numbing games consoles.
If this isn’t an idyllic childhood, I don’t know what is.
Given the number of times Social Services, famously and tragically, have failed our kids – especially during the pandemic – such a lack of common sense is mind-blowingly dumb.
Lofty BBC so pious
OVER the past 72 hours we have seen both the very best and the very worst of the BBC.
The state broadcaster’s coverage of the Platinum Jubilee was exemplary. Slick, fun and faultless from start to finish.
In her first TV appearance in more than four years, Kirsty Young also proved herself an unflappable, reassuring and knowledgeable presence. More Kirsty, please.
The concert itself was glossy, and brimming with superstars – with the possible exception of Alicia Keys who, bafflingly, paid tribute to her native New York before launching into Empire State Of Mind, an ode to Manhattan, with a passing mention of London at the end – and was watched by 14million of us.
But then, following all that good work, Aunty goes and lets herself down in the way only she can. In its infinite PC wisdom, the Beeb issued a needless apology, clearly terrified it would face calls of racism.
Former Strictly judge Len Goodman had told Kirsty that his (long-dead) gran described coronation chicken and curry powder as “foreign muck”. Cue mass BBC exec panic.
Later in the show, therefore, poor Clare Balding got the hospital pass and was forced to apologise in case “anyone took offence”.
Len is 78. He was telling a story about comments made by his relative three scores ago.
Like it or not, this sort of comment was bandied across households in those days.
As someone whose grandma merrily described Gorgonzola as “foreign muck”, such an overreaction is not only embarrassing, it makes a mockery of the idea of free speech.
The BBC shouldn’t be trying to rewrite history – and such censorship isn’t far removed from Chinese state media.
Aunty needs to lose her piety and focus on what she does best – fun, frivolity and accurate reporting.
Jill is simply brill
JOE BIDEN needs to wheel his wife out more.
In one fell swoop, Dr Jill made her hitherto dopey husband utterly relatable.
In an interview with Harper’s Bazaar she revealed the couple fight – or “fext” – over text message in order to air their dirty linen in front of Secret Service agents.
After she texted him in a fit of fury, he told her: “You realise that’s going to go down in history. There will be a record of that” – a reference to all presidential communications being preserved for historical record.
In a sentence that wives the world over can sympathise with, she added: “I won’t tell you what I called him that time.”
Bets on a postcard.
Upping your game
TELETUBBIES’ Po has really upped her sartorial game of late.
LOVE Island is back. Featuring the usual body beautiful suspects and contestants saying “like” every fourth word, a soul-destroying career in Influencing beckons for each and every one.
But what’s more depressing is that Gemma Owen, ex-footballer Michael’s daughter, is a favourite to win.
I vividly remember her dad’s wondergoal against Argentina in the 1998 World Cup – five years before stunning Gemma was born.
Forget policemen, when you relate to Love Islanders’ parents, you know you’re officially past it.
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SOME essential, spine-tingling listening over on Radio 4 this afternoon.
Quite how The Hidden History Of The Front Door – which is described as an opportunity to “discover the hidden meanings of the front doors that have protected our homes and expressed our individuality” – ever got commissioned, I will never know.