How did I get Meghan so wrong?

I have many fine qualities – but being a good judge of character is not one of them. Put me in a room with six saints and a psychopath and we all know who I’m going to be swearing blood-brotherhood with by the end of the evening. Interestingly, this hasn’t left me feeling like a victim; as I’m extremely tough, reckless and self-mocking, I bounce from one inappropriate friendship to the next with no loss of enthusiasm.

But most of these relationships are by their nature not conducted in the public eye. When a journalist makes a fool of themselves drooling over a famous figure who later turns out to be an ocean-going rotter, it’s a different matter. However I may as well do a mea culpa on this matter – anything for a cheap laugh, even if that involves dragging my own name through the dirt. Twice, in this very magazine, I have lain down my pride like a cape over dirty water and begged Meghan Markle to walk all over me.