Harry and Meghan ‘Happy to Be Back,’ British Newspapers Convene Emergency Meeting to Determine Why
Harry wants Archie and Lilibet to understand their British heritage, beginning with rain, queues, school uniforms and the ancient national custom of having strangers explain your family to you
Prince Harry and Meghan Markle are reportedly delighted to be back in Britain, where Prince Archie, 7, and Princess Lilibet, 5, have started the new school year following the Sussex family’s return from California. PEOPLE reports that settling the children has been the couple’s priority and that Harry particularly wants them to understand their British heritage.
Harry wants the children to experience British culture, so naturally they’ve been introduced to rain, school uniforms and adults claiming to know what their parents are secretly thinking. — Alan Nafzger
Nation Launches Investigation Into Sussex Happiness
The first warning arrived quietly.
Harry and Meghan were apparently happy.
Within minutes, newspaper offices across London entered Royal Emergency Condition Beige.
Editors were pulled from lunch. Royal correspondents were awakened from whatever cryogenic chamber preserves them between expressions of Meghan Markle’s face. An emergency conference call was reportedly convened under the working title OPERATION: SURELY NOT.
The problem was obvious.
For years, practically every Sussex event has been capable of being fed into Britain’s magnificent industrial Royal Interpretation Machine.
Harry smiles? DEFIANT HARRY TAUNTS PALACE.
Harry doesn’t smile? MISERABLE HARRY CRACKS UNDER PRESSURE.
Harry returns to Britain? HARRY CRAWLS BACK.
Harry remains in California? HARRY SNUBS BRITAIN.
This is not journalism so much as a roulette wheel with adjectives.
And now Harry and Meghan have returned, the children are beginning school, and sources are saying the family is pleased about it. PEOPLE reports that they are maintaining their Montecito residence while establishing a non-royal U.K. base, giving Archie and Lilibet opportunities to know both countries.
This creates a terrible logistical problem.
Britain has finally found a Sussex arrangement that can be criticised from both sides of the Atlantic simultaneously.
Archie Begins Advanced Studies in Britishness
Harry reportedly wants his children to understand his homeland.
That’s sensible.
There are certain things about Britain you simply cannot explain in California.
You cannot describe drizzle. You must stand inside it while insisting it isn’t really raining.
You cannot explain a queue. Americans line up because they have to. Britons queue because somewhere deep in the national genome lurks the fear that civilisation will collapse if Trevor gets to the sandwich counter before Margaret.
Then there’s the British phrase “quite good,” which Americans mistakenly believe means quite good.
It does not.
It can mean excellent, terrible, disappointing, impressive, mediocre, offensive or “I don’t want to discuss this any longer.”
Harry has years of cultural education ahead of him.
“Children, this is sarcasm.”
“What’s sarcasm, Dad?”
“Ask your uncle.”
Parent-Teacher Conference Already Fully Booked by Newspapers
The school has sensibly not been publicly identified, and let’s hope it stays that way.
IPSO’s Editors’ Code specifically states that pupils should be allowed to complete their time at school without unnecessary intrusion and that children generally must not be approached or photographed at school without appropriate permission. The code also says a parent’s fame cannot, by itself, justify publishing details of a child’s private life.
This is an excellent rule.
It may also be Britain’s least convenient rule.
Somewhere a tabloid photographer has just read it and whispered, “What if I’m technically photographing the hedge?”
The imaginary parent-teacher evening writes itself.
“Archie is doing very well in reading.” — EXCLUSIVE: ARCHIE READING BETWEEN THE LINES IN DEVASTATING PALACE MESSAGE
“Lilibet enjoys painting.” — LILIBET’S RED CRAYON CHOICE SENDS SHOCKWAVES THROUGH WINDSOR
“Both children are making friends.” — SUSSEX CHILDREN BUILD RIVAL COURT
The London Prat conducted its own completely unscientific survey of seven imaginary royal correspondents, three parking attendants and a malfunctioning kettle. Ninety-one percent agreed that if Archie exchanges half a biscuit with another pupil, Britain deserves immediate analysis from two former palace employees and somebody who once stood behind Princess Anne at Boots.
The kettle declined to comment.
Every Playground Disagreement Is Now a Constitutional Crisis
Children argue.
This is one of civilisation’s more reliable institutions.
A seven-year-old says, “That’s my football.”
Another says, “No, it’s mine.”
Normally this ends with a teacher, perhaps a whistle.
Insert royalty and the same event becomes: ARCHIE PROPERTY ROW REOPENS QUESTION OF SUCCESSION.
A child doesn’t invite Lilibet to a birthday party? FRESH SUSSEX SNUB.
She does get invited? LILIBET BUILDS SECRET NETWORK OUTSIDE PALACE CONTROL.
She receives cake? MEGHAN’S AMERICAN INFLUENCE SEEN IN ICING.
This is where royal coverage occasionally wanders from journalism into competitive tea-leaf reading.
The children haven’t done anything. They’re children.
They need friends, spelling tests, muddy shoes and opportunities to discover that every school contains one terrifying dinner lady who can silence 180 pupils merely by putting down a ladle.
That is heritage.
Harry Finally Gets to Explain Windsor
One of the sweeter aspects of the return is Harry’s reported desire for Archie and Lilibet to understand his childhood and family history.
Imagine that tour.
“That’s Windsor Castle.” “Did you live there?” “Sort of.” “Can we live there?” “Keep walking.”
“Who’s that statue?” “Relative.” “Who’s that portrait?” “Relative.” “Who’s buried there?” “Lots of relatives.”
“Why are those photographers following us?” “Heritage.”
The family recently spent time with King Charles, reportedly the King’s first meeting with the children in several years.
Most families call this grandparents seeing the grandchildren.
Royal reporting requires a larger vocabulary: HISTORIC SUMMIT. DYNASTIC REUNION. WINDSOR THAW.
Imagine describing your own Christmas that way.
“After months of strained relations, Alan entered Aunt Susan’s bungalow at 2:14 p.m., carrying a bottle of Tesco prosecco in what observers described as an unmistakable olive branch.”
That’s not diplomacy.
That’s Boxing Day.
Britain Discovers Private Citizens Are Extremely Public
There is another delicious contradiction.
King Charles recently issued guidance reiterating that Harry and Meghan are non-working royals and private citizens. Reuters reported that the couple were surprised by the timing and manner of the communication.
Private citizens.
Harry and Meghan may be the most extensively reported private citizens since privacy was invented.
If Harry buys coffee, six experts examine the cup.
If Meghan wears beige, somebody asks whether beige is an attack on Buckingham Palace.
If Harry scratches his nose, a body-language specialist appears on television explaining that nasal contact represents unresolved dynastic resentment.
Imagine receiving this treatment yourself.
BOB ENTERS COSTCO WITHOUT WIFE: MARRIAGE OVER?
A source close to Bob later confirms Janet was getting the rotisserie chicken.
The Real British Heritage
Perhaps this is what Harry ultimately wants his children to discover.
Britain isn’t merely castles and kings.
It’s football on wet grass. School assemblies. Chip shops. Grandparents. Bad weather everyone discusses as though it personally betrayed them.
A teacher saying, “Right then,” and instantly causing 30 children to stop talking.
It’s discovering that “interesting” generally means “I strongly disagree but don’t want paperwork.”
It’s learning that tea can be an emotion.
And yes, it’s discovering that Britain has newspapers capable of turning a family returning home into something normally requiring NATO reconnaissance.
Archie and Lilibet should get to enjoy the best part of being schoolchildren: being boring.
Painfully, gloriously, commercially uselessly boring.
Go to class. Make friends. Lose a jumper. Find the jumper. Lose it again. Bring home a painting nobody understands. Complain about vegetables. Learn fractions.
Because childhood is short.
And Britain’s royal news cycle is apparently immortal.
A Practical Guide for Royal Correspondents
There is, fortunately, a solution.
When Archie goes to school, let him go to school.
When Lilibet makes a friend, let her make a friend.
When Meghan smiles, consider the extraordinary possibility that she smiled.
When Harry looks tired, remember he has children.
And when the Sussexes say they’re happy to be back in Britain, newspapers might experiment with a radical new interpretation:
They’re happy to be back in Britain.
Scientists believe such an explanation is theoretically possible.
Further research is required.
15 Humorous Observations Before Assembly
- Archie and Lilibet have started school, forcing royal correspondents to confront the horrifying possibility that two Sussexes might spend six consecutive hours somewhere journalists aren’t invited.
- Harry reportedly wants his children to understand where he grew up. Presumably Lesson One is pointing toward Windsor and saying, “That castle belongs to your grandfather. We live over here.”
- The Sussexes are said to be happy to be back, an irresponsible claim which could destroy six years of carefully maintained newspaper narratives.
- The children are attending British school for the first time, where they will study maths, English, science and why their mother’s facial expression at 8:42 a.m. indicates a constitutional crisis.
- Britain has press rules specifically protecting children at school, which seems unfair to newspapers that purchased a perfectly serviceable 600mm telephoto lens.
- Archie is seven. This means he has finally reached the traditional British age at which newspaper columnists can ask whether his existence threatens the monarchy.
- Lilibet is five. Most five-year-olds are asked what they did over summer. Her answer could require three royal historians and a constitutional lawyer.
- British schoolchildren usually bring homework home. Archie may accidentally bring home a tabloid article explaining why bringing homework home proves Meghan intends to conquer Scotland.
- Harry wants the children to know both Britain and America. At last, youngsters capable of translating “Have a nice day” into “Not too bad, actually.”
- The family is maintaining its California home, giving newspapers two continents on which to accuse them of being in the wrong place.
- The children recently reconnected with King Charles, providing the radical family activity traditionally known outside royal journalism as “visiting Grandpa.”
- Prince George has started Eton, meaning Britain now has royal children attending different schools and therefore enough material for a 12-part documentary titled Cousins: The Pencil Case Divide.
- Harry and Meghan remain non-working royals, or “private citizens,” a status Britain defines as approximately 4,000 articles per quarter.
- The great irony is that the Sussex children may learn British restraint at school while walking past a newsstand screaming, “MEGHAN’S SECRET 8:17 A.M. SCHOOL-RUN GESTURE EXPLAINED.”
Disclaimer
This is satire. The exaggerated newsroom meetings, royal-school headlines, imaginary polls, suspicious kettle and 300 photographers hiding behind one increasingly crowded hedge are comedic devices. The underlying move, children’s school enrollment and related royal developments are based on published reporting. No children were interviewed, pursued, psychoanalysed, or asked whether sharing a crayon constitutes a constitutional position.
This story is entirely a human collaboration between two sentient beings: the world’s oldest tenured professor and a philosophy major turned dairy farmer, both of whom agree that a five-year-old should be allowed to attend school without somebody hiring a body-language expert to interpret her lunchbox.
