And here endeth the worthless career of Andrew Windsor, in a grovelling non-apology of a statement, with added empathy that was sadly lacking in his toe-curling interview with Emily Maitlis.
I suppose I was a little too timid in my criticism of the not so great man in a previous blog, concerned as I must have been at the damage it would cause to my expected knighthood in the New Year’s honours list, but sod it: the man’s a horrible little toad.
Are we supposed to feel sorry for him? I don’t. A friend of mine who works for a local charity has spent this week helping clients access food banks. Some were desperate after having their benefits stopped by the DWP, some were actually in paid work. At the best of times, Prince Andrew is not in paid work. But he wasn’t at the food bank. yet.
He talks about the damage he is causing his “family’s work and the valuable work going on in the many charities and organisations that I am proud to support”. This is probably not the right time to reply, “Do you call that work?” because to all intents and purposes, it isn’t work, certainly not work as we know it.
Of course, Andrew is not necessarily typical of the royal family (is he?). Although the likes of William and Harry aren’t engaged in the nine to five slog, or even the nightshifts, of life facing the rest of us, they often make a difference in the real world, like their involvement in matters of mental health and the Invictus games. When not hanging around with paedophiles and socialites, Andrew racks up the air miles as a part time ‘trade ambassador’ for the UK and a regular golfer. Work? That’s not bloody work.
Anyway, his royal career is over, baby. We, the great unwashed, will still pay to maintain his life of luxury as he steps back from public duty. I suppose he could delegate his duties to his dad who is only 98. All he does this days is to overturn 4X4s. (Apologies: I used that ‘joke’ last time.)
Andrew won’t recover from this and, I suspect, the royals will struggle to as well. This isn’t some minor oversight or error: it’s a catastrophe. If pictures turn up with Andrew partying with Gary Glitter, Jimmy Savile and Rolf Harris, I’ll only be mildly surprised.
