Vice-Regal Saint: Boys will be boys, Harry's a good fellow, the press are to blame, pip pip, tally ho
The title is a line right out of the Prince of Darkness's page in today's NP: "Harry may be dirty. But the monarchy shall endure". The King can do no wrong.
Warren Kinsella's piece is worth reading, but I reserve today's space to the Toronto Star's Rosie Dimmano, who writes yesterday in a trashy talented way and with total resignation on the same score:
What's the point of being a prince if a lad can't even score with the wenches, sans grief?
Harry Windsor – if he were to sign bar tabs as a commoner – is a soldier and a scoundrel, which not that infrequently go hand in hand. Just as firefighters could take their pick of the lasses in New York City after 9/11, so popular was the breed in an era short on heroes, so, too, are warriors babe-magnets these days. Add HRH to Second Lieutenant status and Harry is yummy rogue all over.
Even Canada, so conflicted about having troops that actually fight, is gaga for its men in uniform.
And Canada is where Prince Harry finds himself at the moment, more specifically the doldrums of Greater Medicine Hat, poor thing, sharpening his skills with the British Army Training unit in preparation for possible combat deployment to Afghanistan.
Released from the rigours of training, soldiers do what comes most naturally to young men, especially when a real war assignment looms – drink and shag.
HRH Harry, increasingly notorious for his full-bore clubbing, certainly did the former.
It does not appear – despite the best scandal-mongering efforts of that paragon of journalism, the News of the World – that the prince actually did get a leg-over with Cherie Cymbalisty (surely a nom de va-va-voom), buxom (34C) barmaid at Calgary's Cowboys Niteclub.
Didn't take Skanky Girl much coaxing to sell her story to the chequebook tabloid, even as she apparently waits by the phone for a call from the prince, who departed the premises with her number. Which just proves that even Alberta beef-fed voluptuaries can kiss-and-tell cha-ching with the best of 'em.
What transpired was a bit of last-call "snogging,'' as the Brits call it, which was no more than booze-breath smooching in this case. "I would love to see him again,'' Cherie crooned to the paper, which surely put some provocative words in her mouth, where the prince's tongue had just been. "I've texted him and asked him for a dinner date. He hasn't got back to me yet. I wouldn't mind being a princess.''
Uh-huh.
Harry may be burning the candle at both ends, but what's a privileged 21-year-old to do when that carrot-head will never wear a crown, his royal jewels being once removed from the throne?
Primogeniture has guaranteed older brother William purpose and the family firm succession. Meanwhile, courtiers have separated a man from his mates – the spare separated from his Blues and Royals regiment, Iraq deemed too dangerous an environment for the third in line to the throne.
That's the chronic trouble with Harry – superfluous but not expendable.
The prince's Calgary carousing happened to coincide with Britain's 150th casualty in Iraq; hence all the disapproval from the scolding class – as if a direct corollary can be drawn between Harry's escapades and death on the battlefield.
Presumably, if the royal spawn were really torn up about being denied the Iraq tour, as he's bitterly claimed, then he'd stay shuttered in barracks rather than cavorting with silly ditzes.
Obligingly, Cherie gave good quote: "Harry didn't once mention Iraq or Afghanistan. It couldn't have been further from his thoughts. The only thing on his mind was whether or not I was wearing underwear.''
As if she weren't panting to take them off.
One feels sorry for Harry. Poor boy was dragged to AIDS hospices and soup kitchens when he was a sprout, his less than saintly mother aggressively exposing both sons to the humbler side of life. He's had self-conscious noblesse oblige coming out the ying-yang since childhood.
So now he wants to toot.
Blow your horn, kid. Just beware of tootsie rolls in the Alberta hay.
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5 comments:
I mentioned here some time ago that William should marry an Australian. Alas, we're are doubly unfortunate in that we have the wrong Prince and the wrong colony: Harry is involved with a southern African girl.
Although a naturalised Motherlander, I am patriotic about my southern African roots, but South Africa and the Rhodesias aren't where the monarchist fight lies, since our countries are, rightly, African ones with British minorities. Shore up Australia and NZ first, Canada second, and Britain third.
So go to it, you Albertan gals - Harry doesn't seem that fussy, and you can do us all a favour!
Cato
She is a hoe! look at the photo!!
http://maplejuice.com/2007/06/11/prince-harry-and-barmaid-pictures-hit-tabloids-in-england.aspx
There was me saying we didn't do "sensationalised and irreverent jaw flapping rubbish".
Tweedsmuir has given Palmerston his answer.
As Prince William recently said: "After ten years there's been a rumbling of people bringing up the bad and over time people seem to forget - or have forgotten - all the amazing things she did and what an amazing person she was. She did everything because she felt it was right and it was what she wanted to do. She didn't go by what she thought the best thing was to do or be told to do something, she would do it from the heart and fully immerse herself into it and she cared, she cared massively. We were left in no doubt that we were the most important thing in her life and then after that there was everyone else, there were all her charities and everything like that and to me that's a really good philosophy - she just loved caring for people and she loved helping. We were so lucky to have her as our mother and there's not a day that goes past when we don't think about her and miss her influence because she was a massive example to both of us."
Guy Adams in today's Independent writes how "tomorrow, William and Harry give a much-anticipated, in-depth interview on American TV. But anyone who wants to know what really makes them tick would be better off studying the shabby style, Sloaney slang and unspoken social rules of their secretive inner circle"
Read the article at: http://tinyurl.com/34p44a
Ah, yes - The Independent. Isn't that the paper that has been campaigning for a republic over the past decade? Funny that.
What a most disappointing read, Young Husband. I expected far better. I'm afraid you've offered nothing more than tittle-tattle. More "sensationalised and irreverent jaw flapping rubbish" from people who really should know better. Or should they? Let's consider it.
In my experience most journalists are rather like prostitutes. They're in it for the money. They need the money. It is a trait they share with most politicians and other social insignificants - like used car salesmen and barristers. You know the sort I mean. The outsiders. The social climbers. The irrelevant. In that respect they can be made to be quite useful. They can be made to serve a purpose. They will do anything for the money.
Secretive inner circles are, by definition, secretive. Without the "secret" there can never be "mystery". Without the "mystery" there is no devotion from the masses. Reflect on it and you will understand the motives of some journalists. To harm the Monarchy, they must harm the "mystery". They must interfere with the "secret". They must debase it and make what is not ordinary, seem ordinary. In that way republicans achieve an aim. For who would not say - "I am equal. Perhaps better than them. Why can't I be the King?"
Do not assist them in their "work". Do not assist the prostitute. Rather use the prostitute. Again and again.
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