So, Harry and Meghan are coming “home” whether we like it or not – news which, charitable soul that I am, gave me an idea. A few days ago, we learned the Home Office had produced an advice booklet for people coming to this country to, y’know, help them fit in. It was jaw-droppingly obvious information to us lot, but apparently not so much for people from foreign cultures – and surely no culture is quite as foreign to the Brits in Grimsby or Dundee or Barnsley or Torquay than that of the Galactically self-entitled Californian enclave of Montecito, from which our reluctant royals are scurrying back.
So, I thought, in the spirit of a warm welcome and helping a couple from foreign climes who have repeatedly shown us they have no real knowledge of how to conduct themselves properly in Britain, I would produce the following advice guide for Harry and Meghan.
* You are in the United Kingdom because you are seeking refuge from a country which refuses to tolerate your life choices. Nonetheless, there are laws and customs in the UK you must abide by in order to fit in.
Self-importance: In the UK most people live quiet lives, largely keeping their thoughts to themselves. They have a low tolerance of breezeblock thick babble being presented as Wildean insight on every media outlet capable of being monetised.
We don’t like being second choice: Most UK people have a similarly low tolerance of people bad-mouthing Britain while simultaneously milking the country for all it has to offer. The official advice is to tread extremely carefully here.
The King (or Queen) exist outside of politics and are a rare symbol of a united Britain. You attack the monarch, you attack us all. The official advice here is to grovel on your bellies and beg forgiveness.
In the UK we have an excellent range of jams, marmalades and preserves which Americans can only look upon in wonder and admiration. The official advice here is we do not need Yanks selling us “spread” for ten quid a pop.
Privacy: In the UK people do not as a rule launch mega high-profile publicity campaigns to demand their right to privacy. Nor do they release biographies dishing the dirt on family members for cash before similarly demanding privacy.
Just shut up: In the UK people generally bristle over brash loudmouthed self-publicists. Seriously, just shut up. For once. Please, please, please. Try it. The official advice here is to learn from Uncle Edward, a man who effortlessly juggles a quiet private life with stepping up to royal duties as and when necessary.
Right to a family life: In the UK people like those in the wrong to man-up, apologise and rebuild bridges with family members. It is often necessary on these occasions that the man wear the trousers.
If you have difficulty with any of the above please call British Airways and ask for a one-way ticket back to Los Angeles.
A LONG time ago when my gran first took me to a chippy she bought me a “dab” – a piece of battered, fried potato, aka a scallop or fritter. It cost the princely sum of… wait for it… one new pence. I point this out to highlight the chippy’s historic role as provider of cheap sustenance for Brits from coast to coast. We are an island surrounded by water – a fish supper is every Brit’s birthright.
Fast-forward to 2026 and news that a “chippy tea” for a family of four now costs a smidge under 50 quid – and that is without mushy peas, which, as every civilised person knows, are mandatory. There has been a 64% rise in the last five years alone. Apparently this is due to quotas being lowered. And why are they being lowered? Because Keir Starmer, with all the resolve of a wet haddock, failed to grasp the opportunities Brexit offered the UK fishing industry and instead extended a welcome to the factory ships of the EU until 2038. I spoke to an ex-fisherman pal in Fleetwood and he told me Starmer had always talked pollocks when it came to our UK fishing fleet. At least I think that’s what he said.
I’M writing this with a raging toothache and can report that, no matter how much you have paid into the NHS, or how much screaming pain you are in, getting NHS treatment is almost impossible. Indeed finding an NHS dentist is hens teeth – 600 having dumped NHS work in a decade. Teeth, it seems, are deemed to be wholly privatised. Private dentists meanwhile have become the latter day used car salesmen – I was charged £200 for a consult and quoted £2,000 for treatment. I think it’s time for a decent single malt and a pair of pliers…
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