Royal family

Home A neighbour of Boris Johnson, 55 (a candidate for the leadership of the Conservative party and hence for the prime ministership), recorded a loud argument Boris was having one night with Carrie Symonds, 31, in the flat in Camberwell they shared. The neighbour called the police (who later said ‘There were no offences or concerns apparent to the officers’) and then gave the recording to the Guardian. Other newspapers immediately ran front-page reports of the incident. Mr Johnson and Miss Symonds had to leave the flat because of protesters in the street. Mr Johnson refused to answer press requests for an explanation. Three days later, a photograph of the

Royal name games Will more children be called Archie following the birth of the Duke and Duchess of Sussex’s son? How have other names fared after being picked by royalty? — George was the 6th most popular boy’s name in 2012, the year before Prince George was born. In 2014 it fell to 18th. — Charlotte was the 17th most popular girl’s name in 2014, the year before Princess Charlotte was born. In 2016 it rose to 15th. — Louis did not make the 50 most popular boys’ names in 2017, the year before Prince Louis was born, although Louie was 36th. We haven’t got figures for a full year since his

Strictly in terms of its implications for the succession, the arrival of the Duke and Duchess of Sussex’s son this week was not the most important of royal births. The boy has been born seventh in line to the throne, but that position can be expected to fall rapidly once the Cambridge children begin to marry. He is not born to be king, and may never even be granted the title of prince. Nevertheless, the birth has attracted wide attention and celebration, inspiring front-page headlines on foreign newspapers and eliciting interest in Britain from types of people who don’t normally care about royal events. Partly this is down to the

Over the centuries, the British royal family have been many things: conquerors, vanquishers, tyrants and buffoons. They have been denied their destiny, gone mad with grief, been exalted and even exiled. They have been beheaded, beholden, belligerent and benevolent, but until now they have never really been victims. And certainly not self-identifying victims. Yet the cult of victimhood has engulfed the royal battlements like a poisoned ivy. It has curled into ducal nook and princessy psyche, and it has turned some of the most privileged people on the planet into a whiny bunch. Recently, we have discovered the following. The Duke of Cambridge struggled in his role as air ambulance

Isn’t Meghan fabulous? Hasn’t she totally brought the monarchy into the 21st century? Doesn’t she make Kate look like such a square? We were so bored of Sloaney English roses, weren’t we? Meghan Markle is widely considered to be the best thing to have happened to the royal family — and Britain — in a long time. The newspapers are ecstatic, and not just the patriotic ones. There will be pictures, pictures and more pictures to come. Or fake pictures, if that’s what sells. The Sunday Sport recently ‘discovered’ a fake topless picture of Prince Harry’s squeeze, stuck it on the front page and ran with the headline ‘Harry’s Meghan

The world may be dazzled by Prince Harry marrying a divorced, mixed-race American TV star. But his grand friends and royal cousins will hardly bat an eyelid. Because they’ve been marrying celebs (and Americans) for the past decade or so. In a subtle, gradual change in the British upper classes, the aristocracy has given way to the glamocracy. Gone is the blue-blood obsession; gone the marrying off of smart cousin to smart cousin which has continued since Agincourt; gone the Mrs Bennets frantically flicking through Burke’s Peerage, desperate to marry off their boot-faced daughter to the local squire. These days, young royalty and aristocracy are increasingly mixing with, and marry-ing,

Twenty years in August since Diana died. The anniversary is sad for me on many levels — she was definitely the final famous person I’ll have a pash on, and it reminds me that I haven’t yet earned back the whopping advance I was given for my book about her. To be fair, the book was an absolute stinker, written through a haze of gin, tears and avarice, containing such clodhopping clangers as ‘with blue skies in her eyes and the future in her smile’ and ‘affection swooshed out of her like a firework from a bottle’. Nurse, the screens! But there was good stuff in it, too. Namely, the