PROFESSIONAL toady Omid Scobie, the beetle-browed supreme sycophant for Harry and Meghan, calls his new pile of bile Endgame – a title meant to represent what this weird Thunderbird muppet sees as the dying days of the British monarchy.
Funny that. Because Omid — mate — I will bet my last euro that Harry and Meghan will dump you long, long, LONG before the British people dump their monarchy.
Because in the end, the Duke and Duchess of Sussex seem to dump everyone.
If Mr and Mrs Markle can both become estranged, alienated and at furious odds with their dear old dads and siblings, then how hard will it be to cut loose a bootlicker like Scobie?
Not very hard at all. Especially when the little lickspittle has outlived his usefulness.
And according to my watch, that would be — ooh — round about now for odious Omid.
There was controversy this week when the Dutch edition of Endgame actually contained the names of the two royals — Charles and Kate — who made Oprah’s jaw drop in seemingly appalled disbelief when Meghan claimed that someone in the royal household had been wondering about her unborn child’s appearance.
And although there is, of course, no proof that this is something they said, this is a usual point of discussion with mixed-race babies.
Our daughter was one of them. When people wonder aloud what a mixed-race baby will look like, it is not an act of racism. It is an act of love.
But as the controversy exploded, Scobie insisted that he did NOT name Kate and Charles in his hateful little tome.
A translator must have slipped them in!
Well, I have published dozens of foreign editions of my books and I NEVER saw a translator insert something that did not appear in the original manuscript.
So it looks like it is not just his age that Scobie lies through his teeth about.
This “racist royals row” — does anyone actually believe it, apart from a few simple-minded Yanks?
This confected controversy does not make our King nor our Kate look bad.
It is all their haters who look like jealous creeps.
What makes me chortle is that while promoting Endgame, Scobie has dared to lift his eyes from Harry and Meghan’s boots to actually utter a word of criticism.
Scobie — no stranger to private jets himself! — reckons that Harry “should not be flying on private planes when he is championing a sustainable travel initiative”.
If you are Harry and Meghan, I reckon that sounds like mutiny.
Off with his eyebrows!
So will it be endgame for King Charles or King Rat?
For just as Scobie foresees the end of the monarchy, we realise that our new monarch is doing infinitely better in the job than many expected.
When Charles ascended to the Crown at 73, the expectation was that he was keeping the throne warm for the next generation — King William V.
But Charles has already carved out a role for his reign.
His tours abroad — to Germany, France and Kenya — have been masterclasses of modern diplomacy.
In a world of post-colonial guilt, nobody could have done it better.
At the COP28 climate summit in Dubai this week, that festival of pious virtue-signalling, Charles gave a speech about our world that had been a lifetime in preparation.
This just in: We will miss King Charles III when he is gone.
And I am not sure that anyone will ever say the same about King Rat, Omid Scobie.
Not even Harry and Meghan.
WHEN you watch Elizabeth Debicki’s uncanny portrayal of Princess Diana in The Crown, it frequently feels as though you are looking at the real thing.
It is not quite like that when you see Saturdays’ singer Frankie Bridge pretending to be Ginger Spice in that famous Union Jack dress.
Frankie’s frock actually fits. Geri Horner’s Union Jack dress was clearly one size too small.
That is probably why it had such an impact back in the olden days.
RISHI SUNAK is well-intentioned, but if he loses to Keir Starmer it will be because he is woefully out of touch.
In an article for the Telegraph, Rishi writes dreamily about the natural world – “for Conservatives, protecting nature is in our DNA” – while millions of British people are fretting about the real world, and the struggles they have to survive in it.
The environment and Artificial Intelligence – another Sunak passion – are unquestionably important.
But does the PM get it?
The British people are not fretting about the end of the world.
They are worried about the end of the week.
THE worst thing about VAR is that it sucks all of the joy out of our national sport.
The unbridled euphoria that should accompany any goal is no longer possible in the age of VAR.
Now, like those fruit-pickers in the old Del Monte commercial, football fans must wait until . . . “the man from VAR, he say “Yes!”
Our football is about the only thing in this country that still works – brilliantly.
Joy-sucking VAR is ruining it.
THE £200million blown on the Covid inquiry would be worth it if we learned (a) where the worst pandemic for a century came from and (b) how to prepare ourselves for the next one.
But when Michael Gove dared to wonder aloud if Covid was a man-made stew (brewed in a Wuhan virus lab), he was immediately shut down.
So now we know your £200million is being spent on an inquiry with no purpose other than to bash the wicked Tories.
I REMEMBER Shane MacGowan, who has died at the age of 65, when he was in his mid-teens and coming down to punk club The Roxy in Covent Garden to bang on any unattended drums until he was kicked out.
A crazy kid with a dream! Really crazy – Shane was the young punk who got his earlobe bitten off at a Clash gig at the ICA in London.
And then had a good laugh about it.
Shane grew into one of the greatest talents these islands have ever seen.
He was a Londoner with deep Irish roots, and that was reflected in the music of The Pogues – Irish melancholy and melody melding with the energy of English rock music at its most abandoned.
Sleep well, Shane – the boy who was born on Christmas Day.
And who we will certainly see at No1 this Christmas with the immortal Fairytale Of New York.
THE best guitar riff of all time is Sweet Child O’ Mine by Slash from Guns N’ Roses, a poll has unbelievably suggested. Er, no.
In fact the greatest guitar riff of all time is by a bloke from Kent who will celebrate his 80th birthday one week before Christmas.
Happy birthday, Keith Richards.
Brown Sugar, Jumpin’ Jack Flash, Honky Tonk Women – that is the top three of the greatest guitar riffs of all time, in any order you fancy.
All of those classic Keith riffs were played on a five-string guitar in open G tuning.
And Keith always made it sound so easy.
“All you need,” he once grinned with his usual self-deprecating charm, “is five strings and one a**hole.”
