IS there a bigger hypocrite in the world than Prince Harry?
I ponder this question after seeing him jet in 5,000 miles from his California mansion to attend a preliminary procedural court hearing that he didn’t need to attend, pointlessly using up vast amounts of the carbon footprint he constantly beseeches us all to avoid stamping on the environment.
And what’s the case about?
Yes, with no trace of self-awareness, the man who’s spent the past few years ruthlessly invading the privacy of his family, and friends, and even random people he lost his virginity to, has now appointed himself the poster boy for privacy!
Specifically, Harry is waging a relentless war on the British press, which he loathes with a seething, mouth-foaming passion.
That’s the same British press which for many years promoted him as the most popular, fun-loving young royal, and devoted acres of coverage to things like his courageous military service and laudable Invictus Games.
The same British press that protected him from himself by not publishing damaging stories about his brazen illegal drug-taking.
And the same British press that welcomed his marriage to biracial American actress Meghan Markle as a breath of fresh inclusive air for an all-white Royal Family and reported on their engagement and lavish taxpayer-funded wedding in a universally euphoric manner.
But none of that counted or was even acknowledged by the petulant princely brat.
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Instead, Harry’s eye-popping rage at even the mildest criticism of him or his bride knows no bounds, and once they started doing dumb two-faced things like preaching about carbon footprints whilst using Elton John’s private jet like a taxi service, or Meghan having a $500,000 baby shower party in New York on the same day they tweeted about poverty, and got the media sniping their tone-deaf antics deserved, all hell broke loose.
Two years ago, the pair quit royal duty, flounced out of Britain, and relocated to a life of Hollywood-style luxury on the west coast of America where they’ve cynically fleeced their royal titles for hundreds of millions of dollars.
And how have they financed this fabulously extravagant new world?
By invading privacy – their privacy, the privacy of their families, the privacy of their friends, in fact the privacy of pretty much anyone they’ve ever met.
From spilling mostly unsubstantiated royal beans to Oprah Winfrey, and again in a six-part Netflix documentary series, to podcasts, speeches, TV media tours, live-streamed therapy sessions, and a kiss-and-tell-all book, no private stone has been left unturned as the Sussexes flog their most intimate secrets to the highest bidders.
Nothing’s been off limits, from Harry revealing lurid details of his sexual exploits to his expansive drug abuse and even his frost-bitten genitals.
He even wrote about intensely private conversations with his father and brother at his grandfather Prince Philip’s funeral and published private texts from the Princess of Wales.
All the kind of deeply intrusive personal stuff that if a tabloid newspaper had revealed it, he’d have gone berserk about and ordered his over-worked lawyers to sue over.
Prince of Privacy
Yet now, Harry swans back into Britain, not to beg forgiveness from the family he’s so horribly betrayed – they’re so disgusted they won’t even talk to him, let alone see him – but to parade around as the new Prince of Privacy.
It’s beyond parody!
He’s also doing what he does best, which is playing the victim.
Poor woe-is-me, permanently ‘traumatised’ Harry genuinely believes he is the most oppressed and put-upon human being on the planet, which may come as a surprise to the many millions of people who are genuinely oppressed, or so poor they can’t feed their kids.
But watching him swagger into the High Court this week, with a massive self-satisfied smirk on his face – not the best look for a supposed victim – I realised he’s now completely lost his marbles.
Nobody of sane mind would go to court demanding privacy and moaning about intrusion when they’ve literally become the biggest self-invader of privacy and intruder into others’ privacy, in royal history.
And how ironic that the media-detesting twerp chose to march in through the front gates, not the side entrance used by the other well-known complainants, just so he could be centre stage for the gathered media, knowing he’d then be all over the very papers he claims to hate.
Snivelling little hypocrite
The tragic truth about Harry is that he’s become so all-consumingly self-obsessed that he can’t see the reality wood for the delusional trees.
He thinks the British public, many of them reeling from the worst cost-of-living crisis in memory, will be cheering him on as he fights for his right to privacy.
But they won’t.
They’ll be shaking their heads in disbelief at the brass neck double standards of a spoiled, entitled multi-millionaire prince who sells privacy for a living whilst simultaneously bleating about privacy.
Of course, it’s entirely Harry’s prerogative to hate the British press.
But what he really hates is not being able to control the British press.
And one of very best things about this country is that we have a free press.
It’s not perfect by any means, but there’s nowhere else in the world that boasts such a vast array of disparate, vibrant, strident national newspapers that collectively inform, entertain, and hold rich powerful people to account.
And frankly, as this one-man human regal wrecking ball continues his incredibly damaging onslaught of mudslinging against the Royal Family and the Monarchy, thank God for the British press in standing up to the snivelling little hypocrite’s nasty bullying behaviour.