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The latest episode in Keeping Up With The Mounbatten-Windsors has left viewers with a few vexing questions. Why has lumpen oaf Andrew paid a multimillion euro settlement – reportedly between stg£7.5million (€8.8 million) and £12 million (€14.3 million) – to Virginia Roberts Giuffre, a woman he was previously almost, no, in fact, fully convinced he had "no recollection of ever meeting, none whatsoever"?
The short answer is because his initial tactic of hiring a team of lawyers to destroy her didn’t work. And he had to do something.
Giuffre Roberts has accused him of sexually assaulting her on three occasions when she was 17, which he denies, hotly. Though without a drop of perspiration, because he doesn't perspire. His lawyers responded to her lawsuit by accusing her of looking for "another payday" and "milking the publicity". A US court ruled in January that the suit could proceed; last week, Andrew settled.
Where did someone who hasn't had a proper job since 2001 find €14 million? That's a toughie. His navy pension is €24,000 a year
Now the oleaginous toad with the dysfunctional sweat glands and prize-winning lack of self-awareness wants to work for victims of sex trafficking. In a statement which did not admit to any of her accusations, he pledged to "demonstrate his regret for his association" with his late pal, the convicted sex trafficker Jeffrey Epstein, by supporting the "fight against the evils of sex trafficking, and by supporting its victims". Good grief. Haven't they suffered enough?
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This act of extreme narcissism disguised as humility is not surprising from a man whose idea of honour was spending four days at Epstein's New York mansion so they could break up in person. "Doing it over the telephone was the chicken's way of doing it," he told Newsnight's Emily Maitlis primly. "My judgment was probably coloured by my tendency to be too honourable." There's a Duke of Edinburgh award right there, surely.
There are other questions. So many other questions. Where did someone who hasn't had a proper job since 2001 find €14 million? That's a toughie. His navy pension is €24,000 a year. He is selling a chalet in Verbier, Switzerland, though it's unclear how much equity it has. Could he have gotten a credit union loan? Rang his pals for a dig-out? Nah. He'll have hit up the bank of dear old mummy, who is reported to have paid his legal fees. Sure enough, here's the Daily Mirror: "The Queen agreed to help Prince Andrew by personally making a £2 million donation to Virginia Giuffre's charity."
Since the Queen’s “private funds” are intertwined with the public purse and her status as head of state, it’s not beyond possibility that taxpayers’ money is involved. This gives rise to another pressing question. How much more are British taxpayers prepared to swallow in the name of tradition, empire and the Queen being a decent old skin?
You’d imagine the answer is: not a lot. Right about now, you might think, they’ll be marching on Buckingham Palace to demand repossession. Your time’s up, ma’am, you’ve been a smashing tenant, but I’ve a niece starting college, so maybe you could downsize to somewhere a bit less draughty?
Little discernible talent
Weirdly, swathes of British society seem to be suffering from a form of Stockholm syndrome when it comes to the royals, who as a collective boast little discernible talent, scant charm, much entitlement and sporadic allegations of dubious morals. Last week, police began probing allegations of Saudi cash-for-honours donations to Prince Charles’s charity.
The notable exceptions are the queen herself, who doesn't attract widespread support so much as cult-like devotion, and Kate Middleton, whose main job is to be paraded in front of the public like the eighth wonder of the world. Look at her, the headlines bellow. Hark at how normal she is! Marvel at her sweater, which is just like a normal sweater!
Part of the queen’s enduring popularity is that she has been a cohesive force in British life at a time of division. Last week, one photo of her smiling bravely despite a ‘Covid scare’ was all it took for many observers to forget about Andrew and descend into an orgy of bless-her-hearts. But she’s 95 and less robust than she was. The grown-up thing for Britain to be doing would be having a conversation about the institution she embodies and how it can be quietly wound down when she’s gone.
It’s hard to think of anything more infantilising or anachronistic for a modern, progressive nation which keeps banging on about its sovereignty than having a monarchy. The whole thing is like a giant pyramid scheme, reliant on a mass suspension of disbelief and a byzantine set of laws making it too onerous to unpick, assuming the British public was bothered.
The year of her platinum jubilee would be a good time for the queen to bow out and give the British people their much-vaunted sovereignty back
In a poll last November, support for Britain remaining a monarchy stood at 60 per cent, so it is safe to assume it’s not. Take the recent effort to “strip Andrew of his titles”. The titles he kept include prince, duke, counsellor of state and vice-admiral. To divest him of those would require a statute passed by the House of Commons, the House of Lords, and royal assent. The message is that it’s hardly worth the bother, really.
All of which begs the most perplexing question: what does a royal have to do to truly disgrace themselves? For an 'outsider' like Meghan Markle, the possibilities are endless, including having political views, being 'uppity' or not wearing the right colour tights. If you're the queen's odious second son facing court claims of sex offences, you can expect a mild public rebuke, a good deal on a Grade II listed lodge in Windsor and a new £80,000 Range Rover.
The year of her platinum jubilee would be a good time for the queen to bow out and give the British people their much-vaunted sovereignty back. But I suspect there’s as much chance of that happening as Andrew successfully rebranding himself as a sex abuse campaigner.