Royal family

As the author of How to Lose Friends and Alienate People, I have to acknowledge that I still have some way to go to match the radioactive negativity Harry and Meghan generate with their every move. The Sussexes’ accumulated expertise in committing increasingly nauseating acts of hypocritical entitlement with every week that passes should qualify them both for a Regius Chair in Blithe Privilege at the University of Self-Regard. The latest episode in their narcissistic odyssey – The Sillyad – has been their agonising over where to send their children, Prince Archie and Princess Lilibet, to school. Harry and Meghan’s decision to educate them in England is, in its way, admirable.

A little while back I came across a copy of Ted Hughes’s Laureate poems which had an inscription to some friends. Inside was an unpublished squib by the late poet laureate which read: ‘The Royalist/ Is afraid/ The Queen’s a pin/ In a hand-grenade.’ If I understand the poet’s meaning correctly then I count myself such a royalist. I dislike criticism of the royal family, especially of the monarch. When it happens it feels too much like people hammering at something fundamental – far more fundamental than the critic appreciates. If criticism is to be made it seems to me that it should be done privately, so as not to disturb the fragile equilibrium of the rather magical arrangement we have on these islands.

When Aston Villa won the Europa League recently, the focus was less on the football than on the Prince of Wales bawling ‘Sweet Caroline’. And while images of Wills bouncing in his box and cheering his favourite team wouldn’t seem to connect to a Tudor court painter, they probably wouldn’t exist without him. This year marks 500 years since Hans Holbein came to London and invented royal image-making at a stroke. The German-born artist’s vision of Henry VIII – legs apart, shoulders wide and with a codpiece the size of a prizewinning marrow – was an instant hit and remains the most famous image of our most famous king. More than that, it set a trend. Ever since, image-making has been as much a tool of the royal trade as throne, crown and sceptre.

And so to the White House for a ringside seat at the Trump circus. Another assassination attempt on the President wasn’t going to stop the royal machine. After calls between Buckingham Palace, the West Wing and the secret service while the UK press pack nervously checked their phones mid-flight to Washington, praying for the British Airways wifi to hold, the King and Queen kept calm and carried on with their state visit. It was never in doubt. Despite the White House correspondents’ dinner shooting, there was too much fear behind Whitehall and Palace walls of disappointing the Donald to pull the plug. May I commend BA for its wifi and in-flight entertainment, which features The Royals, a lively podcast on the House of Windsor.

It was to King Charles’s great credit that he refused to fall for the Trump power handshake thing and instead retracted his own hand so that the orange psychotic was left, for a nanosecond, flailing and unsure of what to do with his right arm. It is always good to call the bluff of a bully, because they usually are bluffing. I would have preferred it if Chaz had executed a swift jujitsu move and thrown the President over his shoulder and onto the ground. But one cannot have everything – and of course the King was there to be emollient and to remind Trump of the things he quite likes about the UK: golf and class distinction, basically. He doesn’t seem to like us for any other reason – which is, in fairness, the mindset of almost every previous US president.

King Charles III’s state visit to Washington this week is the monarchy executing its core diplomatic function with precision and dignity. In Donald Trump’s Washington, an invitation to an event with the British monarch remains the most sought-after in the city. By stark contrast, the King’s son and daughter-in-law careen around the globe representing no one but themselves. They dress up as royals in a sustained exercise in self-promotion and profiteering that repels observers and belittles the very institution that gave them their platform. One upholds the Crown’s purpose, while the other commodifies it. The Sussexes’ grift cheapens the Crown’s reputation and insults the public’s intelligence The King and Queen travel as invited guests of the US government.

Elizabeth II was never particularly enthusiastic about birthdays. They were a good excuse for a parade or an honours list, but not a patch on a major wedding anniversary, let alone a jubilee. Those were a celebration of true dedication, not of mere longevity. Even so, were she still with us, the late Queen would have acknowledged that her centenary on Tuesday is a big deal. It would also have created a delightful conundrum for the Buckingham Palace anniversaries office, the department that sends out 100th-birthday congratulations from the sovereign. At the start of her reign, she was sending 385 of those each year across all her realms (by telegram). By the end, it was over 16,000 (by card).

The Prince of Wales seeks to assure us that, as a friend puts into his mouth, ‘I might not be at church every day, but I believe in it.’ That formulation does not necessarily mean he believes in God or the doctrines of the Church of England. All it means is that he believes in the efficacy of the C of E and will dutifully fulfil his future role as its Supreme Governor. Actually, that is all we need to know. His great Tudor predecessor said she did not want to ‘make windows into men’s souls’; even kings are only men. The important thing, from a constitutional as opposed to a spiritual point of view, is that he acts the part with good grace, which he surely will. Whether he does so by divine grace poured into his heart is a question above all our pay grades.

‘Deranged conspiracy’. That’s the Sussexes’ verdict of Betrayal, my second blast at Harry and Meghan, after the serialisation was in the papers at the weekend. Naturally, I’m grateful. The book now ranks No. 1 on Amazon. My biography of Robert Maxwell also benefited from his endless writs. Similarly, Richard Branson sued twice to prevent publication. He lost and was denied the licence to run the National Lottery. The tycoon Tiny Rowland was more subtle and effective. ‘Bower’s book,’ he announced, ‘is boring. He’s missed all the good bits.’ That hurt. My new book exposes the vainglorious Duke and Duchess’s downwards spiral over the past five years towards an inglorious endgame. Dwindling fame and fortune is forcing them to revalidate their royal status.

Never one for introspection, Andrew Mountbatten-Windsor has still managed to provoke some searching questions about the institution he once served. For example, what constitutes a family if it is royal? Since Victorian times, parliament’s rulebook, Erskine May, has forbidden ‘reflections’ on ‘the conduct of the Sovereign, the heir to the throne, or other members of the royal family’ in debates. Following Lib Dem pressure, that rule has been rewritten by Mr Speaker, who has stated: ‘Because this now relates to a person who is not a member of the royal family, the situation is completely different.’ But in what way? Clarity is needed.

Home Morgan McSweeney, the helmsman of Labour, walked the plank by resigning as chief of staff to Sir Keir Starmer, the Prime Minister, whom he had advised in 2024 to appoint Lord Mandelson as ambassador to Washington. Mr McSweeney’s resignation statement began: ‘After careful reflection, I have decided to resign from the government,’ as though he had been a member of the government. In a speech meant to be about funding for local communities, Sir Keir said he was ‘sorry for having believed Mandelson’s lies and appointed him’. But he added: ‘I had no reason to believe he was telling anything other than the truth’, even though the Financial Times had in 2023 reported that Mandelson had stayed at Jeffrey Epstein’s house when the financier was in prison.

Royal removals The King has had more success in stripping Andrew Mountbatten-Windsor of his royal titles than George IV had in removing the title of his Queen, Caroline of Brunswick-Wolfenbuttel. George, then Prince of Wales, and Caroline married in 1795 having got engaged before they actually met. On their wedding night, both found each other physically disgusting – although they did manage to conceive a daughter. Caroline went on to have a string of affairs, prompting delicate royal investigations, even though George was hardly a picture of fidelity himself. She later left England and set up with an Italian manservant, Bartolomeo Pergami, but returned to England when George ascended to the throne in 1820. His efforts to dethrone her via a Pains and Penalties Bill failed.

Political frenemies Nigel Farage accepted Robert Jenrick into Reform UK in spite of having previously called him a ‘fraud’ (for boasting about securing hotels for migrants when in government and then campaigning against them in opposition). Some more political make-ups: — David Cameron called Nick Clegg his ‘favourite joke’ before forming a coalition with him in 2010. — Donald Trump chose J.D. Vance as his running-mate in 2024 in spite of Vance having called him ‘America’s Hitler’ and a ‘really bad person’. — George H.W. Bush served as Ronald Reagan’s vice-president between 1981 and 1989 in spite of having previously accused him of ‘voodoo economics’.