So there you go. Big Phil’s chucking it all in. The Royal slave drivers have finally decided that when one reaches the age of 95 then one no longer has to walk five feet behind one’s wife with their hands behind their back insulting almost everybody she shakes hands with. That’s one of the great things about being a senile old royal. You can be as racist as you like coz, God love him, it’s just another amusing gaff.

For sixty years, he’s been the royal Labrador following his regal master around the once great British Empire that’s now smaller than the throne room. His dutiful life has been one of utter inconsequence and to be honest you’d be forgiven for thinking that essentially it’s been a wasted one, but hey someone had to do it. And if you can dress it up as ‘duty’ then at least it sounds worthwhile right? Although on the matter of duty this wasn’t exactly extended to any of Phil’s four sisters, none of whom were invited to his and Liz’s wedding in 1947 because they were married to Germans! Even back then one always had to be considerate of what ones neighbours might say.

Of course, first and foremost Phil the Greek’s main role was to be the sire for the young Elizabeth and to provide an heir to the British throne. But let’s be honest here shall we. What a feck up that’s been! Two of their kids have separated and one has divorced, not to mention conspiracy theories surrounding the sudden death of his more famous daughter-in-law? His youngest son quit the marines due to the lack of ballet opportunities and his eldest son, the current heir to the throne, was caught apparently telling another mans’ wife that what he wanted most was to live inside her knickers! Class.

But you have to feel some sympathy for Phil. After all, many of us have crap jobs. But at least we can draw some comfort from the fact that we’re doing it to provide for our families. But as Phil has spent most of his adult life pointlessly flying first class around the globe with only a pair of ribbon cutters and a plaque unveiling kit for company, he couldn’t even comfort himself with this notion.

So now the man from Corfu whose life has been one long, all expenses paid Club Med holiday, can finally put his feet up and reflect on all those royal engagements which haven’t lived in anybody’s memory, the shallow deference, the fake sincerity, royal arse lickers and the motley collection of forelock tuggers and his own dysfunctional family before he finally considers where it all went wrong?


5th May 2017.