Harry and Meghan: return of the grifters

So after a six-year sojourn in southern California, Harry and Meghan – partners in crime in what I dubbed ‘the Grabdication’ – are heading back to Blighty.

I don’t think we’ve missed them very much at all. Distance has not led to enchantment, and their tawdry antics have appeared less riveting as time goes by, from Meghan’s jam business to the reality TV shows to Harry’s charity scandals. As that very frank man from Spotify said of them: ‘“The Fucking Grifters” – that’s the podcast we should have launched with them.’

Under other circumstances, had their commercial success been greater, their return might have struck one as quite pleasant; Meghan graciously giving in to Harry’s homesickness after he had stuck it out for her in an environment which must have been quite lonely for him. But because they failed to launch, the feeling is now not so much a triumphant homecoming as that of a double-act who overestimated their global appeal and are returning to a smaller core audience, like those English pop stars who go to the US on a tour of Enormodomes and next year are playing ‘showcases’ at record shops in Richmond.

The central question – the answer to which must surely dictate how both the Windsors and the public react to them – is this: is their imminent arrival led by the heart or the head? If the former, and they’re feeling a bit blue due to the big wide world not wanting them, and want to rebuild their relationship with the ailing monarch before it’s too late, there’s a chance they can make a go of it. Harry is Diana’s son, after all, and that still counts for something with a sizeable proportion of the elderly female population who, like me, have never got over their affection for the late princess.

But what if the latter is the case? What if Meghan sat Harry down one day, chucked him a few flower sprinkles to chew on and laid it on the line: we’ve run out of road here in my sunny ‘hood – how about we go back to that rainy old island I can’t stand and hawk our wares there? As the man from Spotify so brutally put it, ‘Nobody cares what you have to say about anything unless you talk about the royal family’.

They’ve got previous on being royal blabbermouths, though ‘recollections may vary’ as to the veracity of their tattle; the unnamed royals speculating on the baby’s skin shade, Meghan shivering and suicidal in a scullery, Camilla the wicked stepmother doing dirty deals with the gentlemen of the press over a cheeky Rothmans, William as a necklace-tugging, dog bowl-breaking brawler better suited to the Queen Vic than Buck Pal. ‘Harry and Meghan: The Homecoming’ would surely make a tasty morsel to dangle under Netflix’s nose.

Would they find it easy to re-enter what passes for ‘society’ these days, that strange swirl of shady expats, showbiz kids and a few stray blue bloods? These things are immensely important to someone like Markle. She’s not so much a social climber as a social mountaineer, to the extent one imagines her keeping crampons rather than tampons in her handbag. And it’s not beyond the bounds of possibility that one reason she is following her man so meekly back to a place she loathes is that she failed to worm her way on to the political / entertainment A-list in her own country. Once on friendly terms with Oprah, Beyoncé and Serena, the most famous acquaintance she could dredge up for her reprehensibly rotten at-home show, Love, Meghan, was alleged comedienne Mindy Kaling.

Still, Earl Spencer, with his grudge to nurse and his book to promote, will no doubt be a generous host. But Uncle Andrew will get the swerve, as will the ghastly Fergie, while their children appear to have cooled on their cousin – imagine being snubbed by a York! No doubt Beatrice and Eugenie are keen to hold on to their precarious place in the pecking order. The fealty of famous Brits to the crown is notorious, to the point that even a bighead like Beckham will stand in a queue with the commoners for days on end to pay his respects to the late Queen, so probably no table for the Sussexes at the BAFTAS.

A YouGov poll in July found that only 22 per cent of Britons view Meghan positively compared with 65 per cent who dislike her. Harry (once the most popular royal) is faring only slightly better, with 33 per cent viewing him positively compared with 58 per cent who have a negative view of him. This leads us to the issue of security, which Harry has made such a song and dance about, even using it as a reason for the initial scarpering. (Because no one in the US carries a gun, of course.) Why has he changed his mind about the likelihood of crazed Taliban fighters lurking around every corner ready to take him out? Probably the most that will happen is that Megsy will have a few old ladies chuck over-ripe tomatoes at her when she goes to open a new branch of Whole Foods, just as Camilla was once allegedly bombarded with bread rolls in the carpark of Chippenham Sainsbury’s.

They’re rumoured to have bagged a billet in the Cotswolds, which would have been fine when other American victims of Trump Derangement Syndrome had flounced there in a huff, like her friend Ellen DeGeneres – another character with a sickly sweet public image whose employees have told a different story. But now Trump’s prospects aren’t looking promising, it’s likely that the Hollywood squares will regroup again behind the Democrats, once more leaving Meghan several steps behind the A-list. Apparently, the Montecito residents will be glad to see them go, due to the media attention that they drew to this previously discreet enclave. The perma-paps will now haunt the Cotswolds, annoying the likes of Kate Moss, who see it as a place where they can take their ease in private. Even the media types who live there are the stellar kind who won’t welcome the paparazzi pooping on their own doorstep, as it were.

Handily, the Sussexes are said to be keeping the properties in California and Portugal, so a bit of winter sun will never be far away. They do like a nice trip in a private jet – it’s a proven fact that people with ‘progressive’ views produce less airplane pollution. Many of their recent trips have been taken solo, or as a couple, without Lilibet Ltd and Archie Inc accompanying their doting parents. There has been talk of how Harry would prefer the tiny trademarks to go to British schools; am I the lone cynical voice who suggests that this may be because children can be boarded very young here, whereas in gentle-parenting LA this would be very much frowned upon?

By far the most convincing argument I’ve yet heard is that Meghan has been offered a ‘huge’ and ‘lucrative’ acting role in an unnamed project. The mind boggles. My money’s on Max Branning’s new mystery squeeze in EastEnders or a corpse in Midsomer Murders – an early offing in a freak accident like poor Martine McCutcheon, so as not to put Markle’s severely limited acting chops through anything too taxing.

But what of the brothers? The relationship between William and Harry was always the most interesting aspect of this kerfuffle, redolent as it is of divided royal houses of the past, with bro vs bro going at it like billy-o. It may all seem like cuddles with grandpa and Christmas at Balmoral now. But once the Court of Wales is riled, a dynasty-splitting showdown seems likely. And I, for one, can’t wait.