Sometimes, I wonder if I am being too harsh about William and Kate. Is it just me? Do I expect too much? Should we leave these uninteresting young people to go about their taxpayer-funded business without comment or criticism?
Then I get a letter from a reader that encapsulates exactly how I feel. Like this one from Connie Wilson, who is, just like me, a royalist with issues, but considering the issue from a very different perspective.
She writes: ‘I have been a subscriber to the Mail for over 60 years and am now aged 88. I empathise with most of your opinions so am wondering if you can help me with my problem, which is that I just don’t understand the fashions that some people find acceptable nowadays — or the prices they are willing to pay for them.
Sometimes, I wonder if I am being too harsh about William and Kate. Is it just me? Do I expect too much? Should we leave these uninteresting young people to go about their taxpayer-funded business without comment or criticism?
‘For instance, in Wednesday’s Mail, the Duchess of Cambridge was wearing the most appalling Erdem silk dress, price nearly £2,000. Even worse, it almost matched the hideous carpet she was standing on. It reminded me of when Julie Andrews pulled down the curtains in The Sound Of Music to make play-clothes for the children.
‘On the same page, Kate was shown wearing a very smart, £3,000 Burberry coat. I bought my youngest daughter an almost identical coat at Christmas from the Joe Brown catalogue, which cost less than a third of the price.
‘Even more worrying was another Erdem dress in Thursday’s Mail, which would be more suitable on someone my age. Are these clothes provided by a stylist? Surely someone as shapely and beautiful as Kate could make better choices herself.
‘Jan, it really is time to speak out against these appalling styles. The Duchess is on tour to represent us — but she might as well be wearing a black plastic sack!
‘What can be done?’
For my part, I certainly can’t argue with this excellent style digest of William and Kate’s official visit to Sweden and Norway.
My favourite pair of Premier Inn Royals trundled around Stockholm and Oslo looking like they had dived into the bargain bin of a Seventies charity shop and fought over the polyester hand-me-downs at the bottom of the pile
My favourite pair of Premier Inn Royals trundled around Stockholm and Oslo looking like they had dived into the bargain bin of a Seventies charity shop and fought over the polyester hand-me-downs at the bottom of the pile.
Dodgy fur, foul prints, murky colours, glum expressions, Queen Mum shoes — what was going on?
Even by their own dire standards, this was a new low for the Duke and Duchess of Frump, who seem to have taken it upon themselves to dress exactly like Charles and Camilla, but only worse, right down to Kate’s boots and Cossack hat.
Why are they so old before their time, so darned middle-aged and dull?
Dodgy fur, foul prints, murky colours, glum expressions, Queen Mum shoes — what was going on? Why are they so old before their time, so darned middle-aged and dull?
To be fair, the Duchess is seven months pregnant.
Wearing something flattering and impressive to have drinkies with Crown Prince Wotsisname and Crown Princess Thingy must be last on her list of favourite things to do. Did she even look at those Erdem dresses before they were packed?
Perhaps she thought the frilly blue velvet one was a travel rug. And that weird, mustardy full-length granny wrapper seemed so far removed from her usual minimalist style and so much more like something Margo Leadbetter from TV’s The Good Life would covet instead.
Even by their own dire standards, this was a new low for the Duke and Duchess of Frump, who seem to have taken it upon themselves to dress exactly like Charles and Camilla, but only worse, right down to Kate’s boots and Cossack hat
Unbelievable as it may seem, Kate does, indeed, have stylists selecting outfits for her. And also a hairdresser who travels with the team to pile her hair up into the kind of cottage loaf buns that were once popular with minor Victorian royals attending the Balmoral ghillies ball.
By choosing to herd ’em into Erdem, I suppose the Duchess and her team were being patriotic, feeling that they should fly the flag for British designers — but, quite honestly, an actual flag would have been an improvement.
And, like millions of readers, I don’t understand the price of fashion, either. It’s insane! Nowadays, it seems commonplace for a pair of strappy sandals to cost more than a car. How can an ordinary everyday gabardine mac be worth a four-figure sum?
The only charitable explanation for this latest sartorial dis-as-tah is that Wills and Kate were kindly dressing down because their Nordic hosts’ idea of cosy winter style is even worse than theirs; a jumper over a jumper.
Unbelievable as it may seem, Kate does, indeed, have stylists selecting outfits for her. And also a hairdresser who travels with the team to pile her hair up into the kind of cottage loaf buns that were once popular with minor Victorian royals attending the Balmoral ghillies ball
When they were all togged up in their evening worst, the four of them looked as if they were leaving a works-do in Bolton town hall. Reader Connie is right. The Cambridges are representing us, and they need to try harder.
But there is a glimmer of hope for the queenly future. Last night, when all was nearly lost, the Duchess pulled a sheer, pale-pink evening gown out of her little shop of horrors — and turned on the style taps at last.
It was regal, classy and even had a supergirl cape, which bathed her in a heroic glow.
It was almost too little too late — but well done, my old Duch.
Time to switch off these whingeing Beeb-ettes
Where are we with the BBC gender pay gap now? Not at a pretty juncture.
Carrie Gracie, the BBC’s former China editor who has resigned over the issue, blew a fuse over her employer’s report this week, which concluded there was no systemic gender bias at the Beeb.
BBC women, with Carrie at their head, claim the report is a whitewash, even though it was compiled by independent accountants.
All this frenzied fuss seems to have resulted in more women getting more money and a lot of men getting less money. If that’s what equality and feminism have achieved, I want nothing to do with it.
Carrie Gracie now seems unreasonable — and loving her moment in the spotlight a little too much.
Why is she still there — I thought she had resigned? Perhaps she can work anywhere she wants and will turn up on The Archers next. Or get a job clearing the ham sandwiches off Jeremy Vine’s desk, so that any vegan guests on his Radio 2 show won’t be mortally offended.
If these women hate the BBC so much and find the management so despicably fraudulent and untrustworthy, then they should take their plummy, dulcet tones, their sense of entitlement, their pension pots and reheated grievances and go get a job in the real world, where reading out typed sheets of double-spaced news paragraphs does not carry a premium — or mean a cushy position for life. I’d like to be supportive of the Beeb-ettes, I really would, but this is a complicated problem that can’t be solved overnight to everyone’s satisfaction.
The better solution would be to work together, instead of huffing.
A new report claims that the best way to get to sleep is to listen to the sound of sizzling bacon. Impossible! Most of us would have to get up and make a bacon sandwich, if not two, when faced with that aural torture. Or placate our vegan friends, who might need to be soothed by the rustle of rocket leaves instead. Sizzling bacon is the one thing guaranteed to get lazy teenagers out of bed at the weekend, but surely it has its streaky limits as a sleep aid.
Looks can’t kill, but when facing a baddie with a Walther PPK in his hand, Daniel can
Daniel not a Bond hunk, I’m shaken…
‘Bulbous nose’? ‘Thin lips’? I blame myself for this new ‘scientific study’ naming Daniel Craig as the least attractive James Bond in 007 history.
If I didn’t spend so much time on these pages explaining to everyone, at length, just how lovely he truly is, then perhaps a Harley Street plastic surgeon wouldn’t have started wondering if Craig really was quite as devilishly handsome as previous Bonds.
To prove a point, Dr Julian De Silva minutely analysed the Bond actors’ faces using something called the Golden Ratio of Beauty Phi — and decided Daniel was the ugliest of all due to his ‘very wide face’.
Sean Connery came in first, thanks to his ‘beautiful’ facial symmetry. Yes, but have you seen his knuckles? They are as hairy as mice.
Who wants a pretty boy Bond, anyway? I thought we’d got over that with Roger Moore and Pierce ‘Dimples’ Brosnan.
‘Craig has rugged good looks but they don’t accord with the Greeks’ idea of beauty,’ says Dr De Silva’s report.
Who cares what the ancient Greeks think? Did Socrates see darling Daniel in Casino Royale winning that last hand of poker while making Eva Green almost dissolve into her cocktail?
I don’t think so.
And since when were plastic surgeons any judge of good looks, given the monstrosities they churn out, naming no celebrity names?
Looks can’t kill, but when facing a baddie with a Walther PPK in his hand, Daniel can.
Perhaps I should get in touch with him to say that there are some awful pictures of him out there with hideous long hair.
He and I should team up on a top-secret mission to clean up his internet profile and thus boost his ‘golden ratio’ listing. No, Daniel, don’t argue, it’s no trouble, I’m on my way over now.