Constantly? Really? I don’t know where you’ve seen that. I certainly haven’t. Birthdays, Christmas, first day at school and a few public, family events. Hardly constantly parading imho.W & K are constantly parading their kids for the cameras.
They seem quite happy to put them in the spotlight in return for good publicity. They certainly don’t have their kids interests at heart!
Can you imagine if the Palace finally breaks their silence:SOON AFTER THAT DAY, Willy and Kate invited me over to dinner. They knew something was going on with me and they wanted to find out what it was. I wasn’t sure I was ready to tell them. I wasn’t sure I wanted anyone else to know just yet. But then, as we sat around their TV room, both kids tucked into bed, the moment felt right. I casually mentioned that there was…a new woman in my life.
They surged forward. Who is she? I’ll tell you, but please, please, please, I need you both to keep it a secret. Yes, Harold, yes, yes—who is it? She’s an actress. Oh? She’s American. Oh. On a show called Suits.
Their mouths fell open. They turned to each other. Then Willy turned to me and said: Fuck off! What? No way. Sorry? Impossible! I was baffled, until Willy and Kate explained that they were regular—nay, religious—viewers of Suits. Great, I thought, laughing. I’ve been worrying about the wrong thing. All this time I’d thought Willy and Kate might not welcome Meg into the family, but now I had to worry about them hounding her for an autograph. They barraged me with questions. I told them a bit of how we’d met, told them about Botswana, told them about Waitrose, told them I was smitten, but overall what I told them was heavily redacted. I just didn’t want to give away too much. I also said I couldn’t wait for them to meet her, that I looked forward to the four of us spending lots of time together, and I confessed, for the umpteenth time, that this had long been my dream—to join them with an equal partner. To become a foursome. I’d said this to Willy so many times, and he’d always replied: It might not happen, Harold! And you’ve got to be OK with that. Well, now I felt that it was going to happen, and I told him so—but he still said to slow down. She’s an American actress after all, Harold. Anything might happen. I nodded, a bit hurt. Then hugged him and Kate and left.
Prince Harry, The Duke of Sussex
The flip from 'mummy' to cock and back again is so rapid that my head is spinning. Freud may have had a point.It was still so hard to think of Mummy in the realm of Death. Mummy, who’d danced with Travolta, who’d quarreled with Elton, who’d dazzled the Reagans—could she really be in the Great Beyond with the spirits of Newton and Chaucer? Between these thoughts of Mummy and death and my frostnipped penis, I was in danger of becoming as anxious as the groom.
My penis was oscillating between extremely sensitive and borderline traumatized. The last place I wanted to be was Frostnipistan. I’d been trying some home remedies, including one recommended by a friend. She’d urged me to apply Elizabeth Arden cream. My mum used that on her lips. You want me to put that on my todger? It works, Harry. Trust me. I found a tube, and the minute I opened it the smell transported me through time. I felt as if my mother was right there in the room. Then I took a smidge and applied it…down there. “Weird” doesn’t really do the feeling justice.
I'm rolling with laughter at several things.Still, despite the mounting stress, the terrible pressure, we managed to protect our essential bond, never snapping at each other during those few days. As we came to the final hours of her visit, we were solid, happy, and Meg announced she wanted to make me a special goodbye lunch. There was nothing in my fridge, as usual. But there was a Whole Foods down the street. I gave her directions, the safest route, past the Palace guards, turn right, towards Kensington Palace Gardens, down to Kensington High Street, there’s a police barrier, take a right and you’ll see Whole Foods. It’s massive, you can’t miss it. I had an engagement but I’d be home soon.
Baseball cap, jacket, head down, side gate. You’ll be fine, I promise.
Two hours later, when I got home, I found her inconsolable. Sobbing. Shaking. What is it? What’s happened? She could barely get the story out.
She’d dressed just as I’d advised, and she’d run happily, anonymously, up and down the supermarket aisles. But as she rode the escalator a man approached. Excuse me, do you know where the exit is? Oh, yes, I think it’s just up here to the left. Hey! You’re on that program—Suits, am I right? My wife loves you. Oh. That’s so nice! Thanks. What’s your name? Jeff. Nice to meet you, Jeff. Please tell her I said thanks for watching. I will. Can I get a picture…you know, for my mum? Thought you said it was your wife. Oh. Yeah. Heh. Sorry, I’m just grocery shopping today. His face changed. Well, even if I can’t take a picture WITH you…that doesn’t stop me taking pictures OF you! He whipped out his phone and followed her to the deli counter, snapping away while she looked at the turkey. F the turkey, she thought, hurrying to the checkouts. He followed her there too. She got into the queue. Before her were rows and rows of magazines and newspapers, and on all of them, under the most shocking and disgusting headlines…was her. The other customers noticed as well. They looked at the magazines, looked at her, and now they too pulled out their phones, like zombies. Meg caught two cashiers sharing a horrible smile. After paying for her groceries, she walked outside, straight into a group of four men with their iPhones aimed at her. She kept her head down, rushed up Kensington High Street. She was nearly home when a horse-drawn carriage came rolling out of Kensington Palace Gardens. Some sort of parade: the Palace gate was blocked. She was forced back along the main road, where the four men picked up the scent again, and chased her all the way to the main gate, screaming her name. When she finally got inside Nott Cott, she’d phoned her best girlfriends, each of whom asked: Is he worth this, Meg? Is anyone worth this? I put my arms around her, said I was sorry. So sorry. We just held each other, until I slowly became aware of the most delicious smells. I looked around. Hang on. You mean…after all that…you still made lunch? I wanted to feed you before I left.
Prince Harry, The Duke of Sussex.
Having actually worked with her professionally in 2012, I can say she was not this person. Definitely not in 2012. Maybe she became a better person after she met Harry *cough cough*She sent out handwritten thank-you notes, checked on staff who were ill, sent baskets of food or flowers or goodies to anyone struggling, depressed, off sick.
The only source of income for Harry and Meghan is talking about his family. TRF could probably sue them for blackmail because that is exactly what they did when they were trying to negotiate staying on the payroll, keeping security, etc. Do as we say or we'll air it all. TRF told them to sod off, knowing these headlines only last so long and here we are. But they won't ever stop. Their expenses are high. They need additional $ coming in.Prince Harry: ‘There’s enough for another book – I cut memoir in half to spare my family’
Duke tells Bryony Gordon ‘some things that have happened, especially between me and my brother, I just don’t want the world to know’www.telegraph.co.uk
He's done another interview in the Telegraph today. Apparently he didn't reveal all in the book. It was 800 pages and had to be cut to 400. Didn't include some info on William and Charles because they'd never talk to him again if he revealed it. He's trying to save the monarchy from itself and change things for William's children by doing what he's doing. William told him his kids aren't Harry's responsibility but Harry's a fixer and likes to fix things. Also said the media has a tonne of dirt on his family that they haven't published! In 5 or 10 years the RF will thank him for talking about his trauma.
I disagree on that. Up until the last year there has only been the official birthday photos. And now they are starting to gradually get them used to public events, ready for their future roles which id say is a good thing rather than just drop them in it later. And I think this year was unique as there were so many big royal events. Aside the coronation there now isn't any big royal events for years to come.W & K are constantly parading their kids for the cameras.
They seem quite happy to put them in the spotlight in return for good publicity. They certainly don’t have their kids interests at heart!
I respectfully disagree. I do think as the future monarch, w+k have a certain commitment for the kids to appear in public especially for George. I think they are great parents and will do what they can to protect their kids.W & K are constantly parading their kids for the cameras.
They seem quite happy to put them in the spotlight in return for good publicity. They certainly don’t have their kids interests at heart!
Except Meghan uses it on all her correspondence. Actions speak louder than words. Uses a cipher relating to a family she abhors. THAT I find extraordinary!Extraordinary reaction to a doormat which was most likely a joke present. My mother delighted in searching out the tackiest gifts she could find for her brother (an earl). Nasty mugs with 'His Lordship'? Yes please! Gardening gloves for her sister in law with 'Her Ladyship' on the cuffs? You bet! All used and giggled at. Past Times, before its demise was a treasure trove of such things.
Their kids being the operative word, theirs. Not his. Imagine if w and K started talking about their fears that his kids are isolated and cut off from the rest of the family.W & K are constantly parading their kids for the cameras.
They seem quite happy to put them in the spotlight in return for good publicity. They certainly don’t have their kids interests at heart!
Not sure what's funnier. Mummy scented cock cream or Will and Kate being the only religious viewers of Suits on God's green earth.Their mouths fell open. They turned to each other. Then Willy turned to me and said: Fuck off! What? No way. Sorry? Impossible! I was baffled, until Willy and Kate explained that they were regular—nay, religious—viewers of Suits.