SARAH VINE: Is this the REAL reason Harry’s as bleak as a wet weekend?,
‘Harry are you OK, are you OK, Harry?’ That was the question running through my mind (to the tune of Michael Jackson’s Smooth Criminal) as I watched the Duke and Duchess of Sussex’s non-royal royal tour unfold last week.
The Duchess was her usual opportunistic self, flogging the clothes off her own back via ‘exclusive edits’ on AI-powered fashion platform OneOff, and delighting her fans with a VIP appearance lasting a whole two hours that cost each of them a mere £1,700, reportedly earning her around £130,000.
Her dedication knows no bounds, especially when it comes to monetising her own misery (she’s the most trolled person on the planet, ‘man or woman’, dontcha know). No wonder she’s smiling all the way to the bank.
But the Prince? He did not seem happy, not at all. There is so much sadness and anger now etched on his once rather handsome face, now pinched into a permanent expression of peevishness, such a sense of rawness about everything he says or does.
Every speech he makes, every utterance that falls from his lips, seems like a cry for help. On life as a royal: ‘After my mum died… I was like, “I don’t want this job. I don’t want this role – wherever this is headed, I don’t like it. It killed my mum” ’; on his mental health struggles; his lack of self-confidence; the pressures of fatherhood.
Where is the joy, the fun, the enthusiasm for this new-found freedom of his? He’s as bleak as a wet weekend in Bolton.
This concerns me, and I imagine it also worries his family greatly too. For someone who ‘fled’ his existence as a royal to start a new one in America, unencumbered by obligations and expectations, finally free to live his best life, he comes across as awfully stuck. His heart may be in California with his wife and kids but his head remains fixated on the past.
I’m no expert, but it seems to me that Harry is a classic case of someone who has tried to escape their trauma by running away, but just ended up bringing all his toxic baggage with him.
Whole suitcases of hurt and resentment, which he regularly unpacks in public, occasionally lobbing the contents at those he blames for his misfortunes.
Like a wounded animal, he lashes out: his father, his brother, his sister-in-law, the press – anyone who gets in his way or dares to question the wisdom of his actions or behaviour. Is he even aware of how toxic his actions can seem, or of the great harm they cause?
Or is his behaviour just that of a very angry, very spoilt, very sad little boy who, even at the age of 41 and a father himself, is still grieving the loss of his mummy?
Not that any of that is an excuse. We all have degrees of personal agony in our lives, but not all of us use it to destroy the lives of others, as Prince Harry has repeatedly done.
For all his work with veterans, he has not yet understood a fundamental truth about trauma, which is that if you weaponise it, it will eat you up from the inside out.
This is what we are seeing with Harry. A man consumed by his own demons, convinced that his charmed existence – which most people would give their right arm for – is in fact a living hell. A man who clings to his unhappiness as though his life depended on it, who returns to his misery repeatedly, reliving it, feeding on it, allowing it to cloud his otherwise clear Californian sky. He talks about it endlessly, references it in his speeches. It’s almost as though he finds comfort in the darkness, as though blanketed in his own pain he is too warm and cosy in its familiar embrace to do the hardest part – break free and become the version of himself he has always wanted to be.
Perhaps he is scared. Scared that if he lets go of the rage, there will be nothing left. Scared that without these psychological crutches, there will no longer be any excuse for failure. But unless he lets go, he will never know.
Harry needs to stop hiding behind his past. Stop scowling at his own navel and look up. Look around, look at his beautiful wife, his beautiful children, his beautiful house, his many, many riches – and see all the blessings and potential that lie ahead of him.
All he needs to do is show his misery the door.
In just a few days’ time, King Charles will face his biggest challenge: the state visit to America, and meeting the Mango Mussolini, the Tangerine Toddler himself, Donald Trump. I have no doubt it’s the right thing for the King to do – this kind of soft power play is what the monarchy is all about, and Charles III is more than capable of handling such a hot-air balloon. But if Trump can take on the Pope, there’s no telling what kind of a stunt he might pull with a mere king. Hold on to your hair!
Jerry’s party trick
Jerry Hall is celebrating her forthcoming 70th birthday with a party at her home in Henley (which I’ve visited – it’s fabulous). Best of all, the festivities start at 2pm and end at 6pm, presumably so the birthday girl can have a nice hot bath and be in bed by 9pm. A woman after my own heart!
It was my birthday on Wednesday, and as a very special treat my landlord served an eviction notice on me. He wants to sell, which is fair enough – but thanks to Labour’s new Renters’ Rights Act, which places strict restrictions on landlords, he needs to issue my marching orders before the end of April, otherwise he will be obliged to give me four months’ notice instead of two. So thanks to Angela ‘Two Homes’ Rayner, I am now being chucked out of mine – no doubt along with many others in similar situations, all of whom will be scrambling to find accommodation at the same time. Only a government as stupid as this one could devise such an exquisitely idiotic piece of legislation.
Labour: Home of the filthy rich
Any lingering delusion that Labour is still the party of the people evaporated last week when it transpired that Nick Candy sold his £265 million mansion in London (officially Britain’s most expensive house sale) to… a Labour donor. Hedge fund boss Suneil Setiya is the proud new owner of Providence House, formerly the home of Britain’s first prime minister, Sir Robert Walpole. The £4 million he donated to Labour before the last election is the single largest ever to the party. Candy is, of course, treasurer for Reform. It’s almost as though they’re laughing at us.
The Green Party has rounded on the BBC for exposing the false claims made by some immigrants to secure asylum – including pretending to be gay, fabricating medical conditions or claiming domestic abuse. Apparently the BBC report only ‘serves to heighten the hostile environment facing those claiming asylum’. That’s a bit like saying that exposing, say, the crimes of Jeffrey Epstein only serves to heighten the hostile environment facing paedophile sex traffickers. What planet are these people on?
Kate’s fine fellow
So happy for Kate Garraway, right, that she seems to have found a new love after the death of her husband, Derek Draper, in 2024. The chap in question, economist and broadcaster Liam Halligan, is a very fine fellow indeed, and I should know as I’ve spent a bit of time with him. Not in a romantic sense, of course – he happened to be staying with some friends when I visited them in Spain last year. I hope he won’t mind me saying he is clever, funny and very kind – the perfect match for a woman like Kate.
