HER Majesty The Queen has agreed to give Harry and Meghan time to sort out the details of their famous “step back” from royal life.
But that should surely be a fairly simple matter. Harry and Meghan have said they wish to be “independent”. A lot of time has been spent working out how that independence can be achieved.
Well, here’s the thing. I have a cunning plan for the Sussexes as to how they might be “independent”.
What you need to do is get something called a “job”.
If you get one of those they give you money which you can use to buy things — a house, some Pot Noodles, a Hot Wheels car racing set — anything, really, within reason. Remarkable, isn’t it?
It probably wouldn’t pay for the £8million Canadian mansion Meghan is holed up in right now — but they can always ponce a few freebies off their mega-rich friends.
It might not quite cover the legal costs Meghan may incur from her upcoming court case. She’s suing a newspaper and her dad is set to testify AGAINST her.
You have to say she has a knack, this lass, of getting on the wrong side of quite a few people.
I think it’s fair to guess that the Royal Family are not entirely happy with her right now. So she’s hacked off her new family much as she’s hacked off her own one.
It’s no huge surprise they’re both heading off to “Canada” (or “Los Angeles” as it’s more familiarly known).
Meghan seems not to like the UK very much. She doesn’t spend much time in it and my suspicion is that the local people haven’t entirely taken to her.
We had a bit of time for Harry, once. He seemed an amiably thick rugger-bugger with a mischievous sense of humour. Not any more, sadly.
He seems to spend half of his time crying. And he also seems to have swallowed whole the air-headed, ultra-woke, touchy-feely drivel his wife has imported from the United States.
Still, we were happy to spend an extortionate sum doing up their “cottage” with the most expensive materials money could buy. And we were delighted to see photographs of young Archie — once we were allowed to by madam.
For someone who dislikes the starchy formality of the Royal Family, Meghan displays quite a few airs and graces, doesn’t she?
Hates being photographed and gets her bullying minders to stop people taking snaps. Loves being photographed when she’s promoting herself or her vacuous ideas.
But hey, they love each other and that’s the important thing.
Let them move to Canada or LA, where they can jabber to each other about climate change and how everyone who doesn’t like her is racist, until the cows come home.
But let them do it entirely independently. No money from the Duchy of Cornwall Estate. No royal stipend. No security staff paid for by the taxpayers, either here or there.
Let them be truly independent, which is what they seem to wish for.
Maybe they’ll find it liberating. Or maybe in a year or two Prince Harry will wake up and think: Crikey, what have I done.
Burger off, you snobs
DO you remember when you first had a McDonald’s? I remember very well. I was 18 and had just come down to London from Middlesbrough.
My girlfriend told me about these wonderful things called Big Macs. I tried one – couldn’t believe how delicious it was. So I bought another, and then another.
Stood there, stuffing my fat face, eyes wide with delight.
As the years go by, the pleasure diminishes a little – there’s nothing better than tasting something delicious for the first time.
So lucky, lucky people of Rutland. The UK’s smallest county is to have its first ever McDonald’s.
A lot of poncey residents opposed this happening because they said it would “lower the tone” of the county.
Now the snobs can find out what they’ve been missing all these years.
Final nail in the coffin
RIVETED with excitement by the Labour leadership contest? It’s a real humdinger, isn’t it?
I had rather hoped David Lammy would stand, just to give us all a laugh. Sadly, he’s not going to.
Ultra Trot Clive Lewis has pulled out. But Emily Thornberry, above – Lady Nugee to you, you lowly serf – is through to the next round.
If she wins it will be the final nail in the coffin of this once-great party.
City end of the stick
SO, Manchester City’s underperforming stars hired a whole bunch of Instagram “models” to attend a party at some posh place in Cheshire.
Flew them over from Italy, shoved them in a hotel, Bob’s yer uncle.
The wives and girlfriends of the players were not invited to this party. Lovely bunch, footballers, aren’t they?
And was all of this sanctioned by the supposedly progressive and right-on manager, Pep Guardiola?
“That was not what I meant, Senor Aguero, when I said you had to get in the box more often.”
Cheer him up
HERE is yet another Re-moaner head case for you. Liberal Democrat peer Lord Greaves.
He has said he fears Britain will be reminiscent of Nazi Germany when we finally leave the European Union. Yup, that’s a sane and rational judgment, you bearded loon.
He added: “People are crying when they go to sleep at night and when they wake up in the morning, and all they get from the unfeeling, hard-headed Tories is moans.
“They are feeling a sense of loss which is akin to bereavement, and a grieving process has only just begun.
“In these circumstances, triumphalistic behaviour, festivals of Brexit and all the rest will simply make things worse.”
Who is crying? What bereavement process? What kind of drugs is Lord Greaves taking?
Let’s all go round to his gaff on January 31 with a few cans of Stella and try to cheer him up.
Mum fighting back
A BRITISH mum is leading a fightback against the drive to make our children cretins.
The unnamed woman went on Mumsnet to explain that she turns the house wifi off at 9.30pm every night.
And tells her three kids – the oldest is 17 – to read a book instead. Good for her. Children seem to use the internet for just three things.
Playing mind-numbing games.
Bitching about thots in their school. And sending snap-shots of their genitals to 56-year-old men who are pretending to be teenagers.
Bong out of order
THERE was a rather cheering plan to ring out the church bells across the land to mark our escape from the European Union at the end of the month.
But a bunch of bishops have said we shouldn’t do that because the bells should only be used to summon the faithful to worship.
With the greatest of respect, your reverend, b*****ks. You can tell it’s nothing to do with that by their comments.
One said: “Two thirds of the population never voted for Brexit in the first place. It’s deeply divisive to ring church bells for something like this.”
Yeah, Bish – we have a habit in this country of only counting the votes of people who voted, you mimsy frock-wearing halfwit.
Another said: “I think we should be ringing bells on February 1, not to celebrate Brexit but to call people together to pray for our nation at this critical time.”
Ah, go shove your bells up your cassock, you miserable Remoaner God-bothering bores.
Nutjob cock up
A UKRAINIAN bloke woke up one morning to discover a large metal nut around his old fella.
His wife had placed it there during the night to stop him shagging other women. And presumably her.
It seems to have worked. He couldn’t get the thing off. So he went to hospital where they removed it with a circular saw which spat out sparks as it tore through the metal.
I don’t think his todger will be doing very much at all for the foreseeable future.
He should have kept the thing on. And the first time he got excited his partner would be hit by flying shrapnel.
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