As imagined by Brian Beacom

WELL, you would want to give Harold a slap, wouldn’t you?

I can well imagine why that filly who took his cherry in that muddy field behind the pub gave him a smack on the bum because, well, that’s what you do with a naughty boy, isn’t it?

But did I give him a ‘doing’ as you chaps say in Scotland?

Not a bit of it.

I may have grabbed him by the neck – but that was just to stop him speaking.

And isn’t what the world wants to do right now?

Yes, there was a time when we were both close. We’ve shared so much. The same mother. And father. Although Pa did like to joke that perhaps a DNA test may suggest differently.

And neither of us liked Camilla. But your readers will empathise on this one; who does like it when your dad goes off to a polo tournament and comes back with an aged blonde with bad teeth, who whiffs of Pimm’s and Silk Cut?

Now, Harold wishes to kick out against me because I happen to be the Chosen One. But that’s the system.

You don’t have a Chosen Two.

Only one brother, the future king, gets to go first on the new Grand Theft Auto, or gets the big bedroom in Balmoral.

Now, I can take the accusations of finger pointing – key royals do a lot of that – and we’re actually taught how to display anger in the direction of mortals, sorry subjects, as Pa demonstrated recently with his pen complaint.

But all this talk of my ‘alarming baldness.’

Why ‘alarming’?

I’ve been losing my hair since Tiggy ran the nit comb through it. Is it really alarming to him because he’s fast headed towards Dome City himself?

As you’ve discovered, the brightest thing about Harold is his hair.

He’s talking about the Taliban killing like he was playing Whac-A-Mole. And it’s the armed forces who are going spare. He seems to have gone through more drugs than Boots.

But, of course, now he’s talking about reconciliation. Wonder what he’s going to do next to achieve that?

Write of how I once dressed up for a fancy dress party as Diana Ross, or how Pa and Camilla, after a few Highgrove single malts, said they fancied a threesome with Jenny Bond. I'm joking of course.

So, you’re asking me ‘Will he be invited to the Coronation?’

Okay, here’s an exclusive: like Sir Keir I’m going to take back control.

You don’t think I’m going to have my thunder stolen by that pair, giving him the excuse to moan to the likes of you and say ‘Big Willy doesn’t love me. Boo hoo!’

Not a chance. Harold will get the offer. And then he will turn that down and explain his reasons in his next grubby memoir.

But at least I get to look magnanimous.

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