Alexander Larman

The death of the Norwegian monarch, King Harald, at the age of 89 might, initially, seem like a sad but ultimately inconsequential event as far as the British royal family are concerned. Still, at a time when there are only a few monarchies left in Europe, there is an informal fraternity of sorts between the kings and queens who still – some would say anachronistically – cling onto their thrones. And in the case of the Oxford-educated King Harald, there were many parallels, for good and bad, that King Charles, Prince William and the rest of the Windsors would do well to learn from. Given Norway’s rather smaller size than Britain, it is unsurprising that its monarchy has always been a more informal and less rulebound institution than ours.

It isn’t long now until the joyous day that Harry and Meghan once more make Britain their home, but several aspects of their return are still clouded in mystery. We have no idea, for instance, where they are going to be living – although the Cotswolds have been mooted. Once they arrive there, there is also the rather vexed question as to whether their no doubt hugely expensive security is going to be privately funded or the taxpayer’s burden. Two former home secretaries have gone public to argue that there should be at least some level of taxpayer-funded protection for the Sussexes. This may not be a wildly popular perspective but can at least be justified on humanitarian grounds.

It has been quite the week for Prince Harry. A couple of days ago, he announced that he would be moving his family back to Britain – not in years, or even months, but in a matter of a few weeks. That story can now be seen in the context of a costs order made against him and his litigants by Mr Justice Nicklin, after the failure of their court case against Associated Newspapers. Harry may have been attempting to seize the initiative and the headlines with his eye-catching announcement that he was once more returning to the country of his birth after his Montecito sojourn, but the price of his hubris has been revealed, and it is an exceptionally steep one.

A shade over three decades ago, Gary Barlow and Take That sang ‘Whatever I said, I didn’t mean it, I want you back for good’. ‘Back for Good’ has traditionally been taken to be a song about someone wanting their loved one back after a breakup. However, the Duke and Duchess of Sussex clearly listened to it on whatever easy listening channel they tune into in Montecito and decided that this is not simply Gary Barlow’s lovelorn lament but the earnest desire of the British people to have them return to us. Therefore, Meghan and Harry have announced that they will be returning to Britain. Not for a visit of a few days, as has happened in recent weeks, or even for a more protracted period.

King Charles is currently on his summer holiday in Balmoral. After the stresses and difficulties of the past few months – which have included a reconciliation not only with Prince Harry and his grandchildren but also with Meghan Markle – he is surely entitled to a few weeks of privacy and relaxation. Yet, against this backdrop, the monarch is still suffering from the undisclosed form of cancer that he was diagnosed with in early 2024. While the mood music has been broadly positive when it comes to treating the King's illness, there has been no announcement that he is in remission or if the cancer has been cured altogether. This suggests that this continues to be a strain both on himself and those around him.

I am a great believer that there should be no unbroachable topic in comedy, as long as the person broaching it does so in a funny enough fashion. This, however, does not mean that this person should always be entitled to do so. Had Jimmy Savile launched into a new stand-up career eulogising the joys of paedophilia and necrophilia, I am not sure that he would have been playing to enthusiastic audiences, no matter how good the jokes, and while Andrew Mountbatten-Windsor proved to be inadvertently hilarious while discussing everything from Pizza Express to sweating on Newsnight, I am not sure he would be cheered to the rafters at an open-mic night at his local Jongleurs.

It seems incredible, in the year of our lord 2026, that Argos still exists. And no, I don’t mean Odysseus’ dog; I mean the chain of catalogue-based stores that throng our high streets, although in considerably smaller quantities than they once did. The comedian Bill Bailey aptly referred to their ‘laminated book of dreams’, the huge, printed catalogues that used to be displayed in their stores. Every shopper of a certain age will remember the tortuous process of having to find the item they wanted in the catalogue, filling in a form with a little blue pen, paying for their purchase, and then waiting to collect it after being given a number.

Picture the scene. You have bravely battled onto the set of MasterChef Australia, hoping that your strawberry pavlova or similar hero dish is going to be the one that sends the judges into gasps of culinary ecstasy. Then the producers and host smile conspiratorially at you and reveal that the stakes (as opposed to steaks) have been raised. There will be a guest judge, they tell you, a figure who is 'a global icon, a philanthropist, a humanitarian, a woman known around the world for her heart, her voice and her deep love for home cooking'. You draw a deep breath. Who on earth is this multi-faceted hyphenate, you wonder, an all-in-one combination of saint, queen and legend?