Who in their right mind would want to be a Princess? In the last week, the royal bride lark has well and truly lost its fairytale sparkle.
Charlene Wittstock’s real-life Princess story came close to coming off the rails when, in the days leading up to her and Prince Albert of Monaco’s $75 million three-day wedding, she reportedly tried to do a runner.
At the eleventh hour, the bride was caught at the airport in Nice, trying to flee to her native South Africa, on a one-way ticket in order to escape her royal fate.
Before she could even stock up on duty-free gin, the story took a sinister turn when the 33-year-old, allegedly, had her passport confiscated by authorities and a palace intermediary was called in to bargain with her to stay.
Nothing says happily-ever-after like having to use a pliant police force to get your bride to remain in the country long enough to get hitched.
Royal watchers can breathe a sigh of relief because the wedding did go ahead - Placido Domingo performance, Alain Ducasse dinner, Eagles concert and all.
But the photos of the “happy couple” don’t do much to quell any lingering questions about Charlene’s joy at being formally inducted into the Grimaldi family. Most brides’ don’t accessorise their handmade Armani frock with a look of terror and tears.
Then, who can blame her? Her husband, Prince Albert might be the reigning monarch of a stupendously wealth principality that enjoys a balmy Mediterranean climate, but he’s hardly much of a catch.
Rather, he’s a former playboy 20 years her senior who resembles uncooked dough squeezed into a Saville Row suit, and whose tally of illegitimate children currently stands at two (media accounts suggest that talk of another secret bebe coming out of the woodwork sparked Charlene’s airport dash).
Comparisons between Charlene and another naïve, blonde royal bride who was fed to palace courtiers to keep an ancient house with a ready supply of heirs, are hard to ignore. She bears a startling physical resemblance to Princess Diana circa 1981: spooked, nervous, and way too bony for her low-cut Chanel.
Then there’s Kate, whoops, Catherine, Duchess of Cambridge, who is currently enjoying her first official overseas jaunt in Canada and appears to be about to drown in bonhomie and maple leaf tat.
With memories of her wedding relegated to dusty Woman’s Days in dentists’ waiting rooms, Catherine’s real, depressing fate is emerging. For the first time, it’s becoming glaringly apparent how boring, tedious and repetitive Kate’s life is.
Catherine, Duchess of Cambridge, currently only has one purpose in life – smiling.
There is something a little bit tragic about a university-educated woman who is now judged solely on her ability to pick out hats, titter politely at her balding husband’s quips and not fart in front of minor dignitaries.
Whether she’s shit-scared, tired, PMSing, hungry or desperately needing to go to the loo, Kate has to grin and live with the fate she’s chosen.
It’s a lesson that someone should have told poor old Lady Di before she took the royal plunge. Even in death, Diana isn’t afforded any peace, with her ghost still routinely being hauled out like a ghoulish stage-trick to sell magazines.
Last week, when she would have turned the big 5-0, a digitally-aged picture of the People’s Princess, wrinkles and all, was splashed across the cover of Newsweek. The magazine’s editor, and Diana’s old friend, Tina Brown, seemed to have no qualms about dragging her royal pal out of the grave in a stunt that smacked of a desperate ploy to shift copies of the struggling title.
It’s time to ditch the Cindarella fantasy, because dead or alive, the Princess gig isn’t looking quite so magical these days.
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@ToryShepherd I hope that's in your piece tomorrow. Also - are you coming over this week or laaaaaater?
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