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Prince Harry and Meghan Markle are to provide their own security when they return to the UK. Literally. Acutely aware that many people are struggling under the cost-of-living crisis, the pair are to become security guards themselves at their new home. They will pay themselves the minimum wage and will be employed on zero hours contracts.


Things are moving forward apace. The pair have both been fitted for costumes in the style of Paul Blart, Mall Cop, the hit 2009 movie, and the film’s star, Kevin James, has been testing various scenarios with them.


In one dummy run, Harry roars across the lawn on his single wheel Segway to intercept a Deliveroo motorcyclist. Ever the showman, Harry turns to Meghan who is on garden duty, and mouths “No hands”. He stretches his arms out airplane style and raises himself on one leg, blowing Megan a kiss as he crashes straight into Archie and Lilibeth’s trampoline.


In another scenario, Harry has had one Stella too many and he sees movement down by the gates. “Halt! Who goes there?” he slurs. “It’s me, darling,” Meghan whispers. “Your wife,” she adds, removing her security guard’s hat and shaking her hair. Harry pauses. “Are we doing the role-playing thing? But it’s not Saturday…”


image by Grok


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The five million quid was a gift to guarantee my security. I bought an expensive house, because it would be easier to secure, and I bought some of those switches to turn the lights on and off to make it look like you're at home.  And I need the rest of the money for my other safe houses. I can't say where they are, I'm afraid.  At least one of them is in Britain.  I needed security because I wasn't going to be an MP, and lots of people were very upset about that.


The money also covers dry cleaning for my suits - getting out banana milkshake, for example.


No, wait. It's a reward for achieving Brexit. 27 years work. That's only £185k a year. Not that it was a payment.  It was a non-taxable reward - for me, not the country.  It is a reward for things that I've done in the past. There is no expectation that I might do anything in return, in the future.


Actually, it was a lottery win. No, I didn't keep the ticket. Yes, it was a British lottery. Definitely not EuroMillions.


I found it in the street in Westminster. I took it to the police, but nobody claimed it, so it's mine.


I won it, after betting on myself to win I'm a Celebrity.


I earned it on Cameo, but I earned it outside the country so it's not taxable. That's what Angela told me, anyway.


I had a really valuable Pokémon card, which I sold for five million quid.  A picture of a lizard that evolves into a toad, or something.  It was called Chameleozard, I think. That's where the money came from.


It's not my money, it was just resting in my account.


Can we talk about something else now?



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