Meghan could make some dosh as an extra on EastEnders or as The Stig - Verity Lush
The price of Harry and Meghan’s new home is obscene. Especially when we are facing political uncertainty at the moment. Had this £2.4m been spent on other royals, such as William and Kate, it wouldn’t seem quite so appalling because we the public – like it or not – are essentially paying their wages.
We get decent mileage out of Wills and Kate, whereas Hazza and Megs appear to be scathing of traditional royal protocol, reacting most oddly when Archie was born.
It’s all very well having privacy, squirrelled away from prying eyes, but for goodness sake, why bother keeping his name a secret?
Absolutely stay hidden away for a few days, who doesn’t want to do that after giving birth and experiencing one of the most precious times in life?
But to even go so far as to make up twaddle about when Megan was in labour? Bizarre and unnecessary.
There is an arrogance about it, and given that we’ve all coughed up for Archie’s nursery decoration, we’re perhaps owed the odd detail about the family we are funding.
In fact, if they are to shun royal tradition, then why not go the whole hog and give up the spondoolies that come with it and live solely off their own incomes?
I’m not sure what those would actually be these days but there must be a spot of TV work about for Meghan. Something anonymous, in keeping with her wish for privacy. An extra on EastEnders perhaps? Or The Stig?
The fact that the spoilt pair could have just lived at Kensington Palace is insult to injury. How many hospice places does £2.4m buy? How many NHS drugs does that cash afford?
In fact, how many lives could have been saved for that grand sum?
In the almost-words of Dire Straits (and that’s not a situation the pair are ever likely to find themselves in), it’s money for nothing and the nappies for free.
I expect thanks if I give someone a present, so a royal ‘cheers’ wouldn’t go amiss to us all for our very generous house warming gifts.
What a blatant attempt to hoodwink the public... again
The photos of Boris Johnson and his girlfriend that were released in order to negate any suggestion they were splitting up are cringeworthy.
The blatant attempt to make them look like besotted lovers, in the countryside, with eyes only for each other, was nothing short of pathetic.
Everyone has arguments, we all need to explode once in a while, and then we make-up and potter back on with life. Nothing odd about that.
What is odd, is to produce photos that are either not recent, or recent but posed, in a bid to look like Love’s Young Dream.
I realise honesty and politics do not go hand in hand, but please, give us some credit.
As the sun finally appears the complaining begins
Here comes the sun! You would assume we’d all rejoice given winter has only just ended and it is the end of June. But no, like the Great Britons we are, we have taken to fanning our armpits and complaining with gusto that it is ‘too hot’.
Cries of ‘I like it when it’s sunny but this is too much,’ fill the air. The scent of barbecue drifts on the breeze at 7am on a Wednesday morning (true story), and there’s the annual rush on salad in Tesco aisles.
Hipsters are running out of avocados and kids are menacing their parents to get the mouldy paddling pools out, while men everywhere are parading shirtless with torsos the colour of either mayonnaise or ketchup.