Harry.
Haz. Your Royal Hazness. Sup bruh?
Congratulations
on your new website. Looks very regal.
Speaking
of—I hear you’re hoping to return to the royal
fold. Makes sense. Things are a bit messy back home, with
your dad’s recent cancer diagnosis and sister-in-law
out of commission. Also, since you often look bored out in
public, I’m guessing your new life has somewhat underdelivered.
Probably you miss your old tribe just a little. They know
the real Harry and they’re fun—skiing off-piste,
getting bladdered and making a cheeky Nandos run—and
stylish too, with their pocket squares, pebble-grain leather
derbies, pinkie rings and shotguns. Not like those friends
Meghan picked out for you. With them, it’s all Adidas
sliders and baseball caps and ashwaganda this and probiotics
that.
Time
and distance make your old life seem not so ‘unsurvivable’
after all.
NGL,
you have your work cut out. Megxit was more like Kaiser Sosexit,
given how you burnt everything to the ground when you left.
Spinning your departure as a valiant escape from a prison
of aristocratic bigotry hurt the House of Windsor just a little.
They’re human too, after all. Cut them and they bleed
all over the priceless Persian Sultanabad rug. It’s
not just family you’ll have to win back but the lost
love and trust of the British people. I believe, with my help,
there’s still a tiny window of royal-shaped redemption
available.
I
know what’s coming: what would I, an unpedigreed commoner
from the Commonwealth know about it? Newsflash: you need commoners
like me onside to commonsplane the situation on the ground.
Shall we begin?
Make
friends with the press
I know it’s custom for blue-bloods to look down their
noses at low-rent Fleet Street types. But as you hinted in
your memoir Spare, the oiks love their broadsheets.
They’re also proud of the hard-won battle to not only
restrain the power of monarchs but the right of the press
to mock them endlessly.
Doubtless,
the press has caused you no shortage of pain but your tabloidphobia
comes off as imperious, while your concern over the “rapid
rise in misinformation and disinformation” feels like
a luxury belief. The world’s in a mess right now and
Brits have bigger problems.
From
wounded veterans to sick children, you serve many noble causes.
The Aspen Institute’s “Commission on Information
Disorder” is not one of them. It sounds Orwell-esque.
One
more thing . . . going on record claiming that “America’s
First Amendment is bonkers” is bonkers.
Give
your rebranded website another rebrand . . .
The tabloids are complaining that sussex.com looks too close
to the BRF brand and to be sure there’s some royal window-dressing:
purplish-blue colour scheme, coronets, coats of arms and grandiose
name. That’s all on the surface. Substance-wise, it’s
a long way from home.
For
someone who shares a nationality with Shakespeare, Kipling,
Wodehouse and other venerated British content creators, I’m
amazed this got your stamp of approval. What, for instance,
does this mean:
“We
meet the moment by showing up, taking action and using our
unparalleled spotlight to uplift and unite communities—local
and global—through acts of service and compassion.”
Or
this?
“Investing
in people and places that foster meaningful bonds and help
people thrive.”
And
this absolute gem:
“At
Archewell Productions, we believe that stories have the power
to unite and inspire audiences around the globe.”
If
you want to unite and inspire audiences around the globe,
I advise taking advantage of that unparalleled spotlight to
foster a meaningful bond with an actual writer as opposed
to an AI large language model.
Meanwhile,
the level of self-promotion is eye-watering. The bios for
you and Meghan left me wondering if you’d also cured
cancer and orchestrated the Peace of Westphalia. Spare wasn’t
just a NY Times bestseller and the fastest-selling
non-fiction book ever but “told with compassion, vulnerability,
and unflinching honesty.” Meghan didn’t just edit
British Vogue, but the “fastest selling [issue]
in the magazine’s history.” Her podcast is record-breaking
and her children’s book is an acclaimed NY Times
bestseller. No wonder South Africans rejoiced in the streets
when you married, though recollections varied on that one.
Self-obsession
and braggadocio are anathema to the British psyche; as un-British
as butting in line and pronouncing ‘Worcester’
phonetically. Speaking of which . . .
Are
you in or out?
Frankly, you’ve been drifting from your roots since
well before Megxit. Remember back in 2018 when your friends
the van Straubenzees held an annual carol concert at St Luke’s
Chapel in Chelsea and instead of a traditional festive reading
you delivered a sermon on period poverty that had your tweedy
audience squirming in their seats? Or that London dinner party
when Meghan went berserk over the British custom of seating
couples apart and you totally capitulated?
Six
years later, you go jetting off to Jamaica for a photo op
with the country’s virulently anti-monarchist prime
minister. If you want back in, stop making Piers Morgan cry.
Less
therapeutic psychobabble
We get it: you’re emotionally literate and mental health
is a big issue for you. You’re a self-proclaimed mental
wellness advocate and holder of the title of Chief Impact
Officer at BetterUp, a Silicon Valley ‘mental fitness’
startup.
Here’s
the thing: Brits, especially older ones, wonder when younger
generations became so psychologically fragile–a situation
that would mortify my gritty, home-steading British ancestors.
Having
said that, there is one mental health disorder worth looking
into–folie à deux (French for “folly
of two”), a rare psychiatric syndrome in which symptoms
of a delusional belief are transmitted from one person to
another. Just sayin’.
I
hope all this has been helpful. With any luck, you’ll
be back in the royal diary in no time, attending ribbon cuttings
on new Sainsbury’s locations and anniversary celebrations
of mining museums in Kent. This brings me to one final, somewhat
contradictory, piece of advice: be careful what you wish for.
Godspeed,
Liz
