A genuine question, posed with no malice, for my book-dictating, grandmother-loving, apricot-colored Prince of Central Coastal California: Harry, was it simply too painful for you to envision a world in which your 96-year-old grandmother (whose health was visibly failing on a global scale) was going to die, so you embarked on “writing” your bombshell memoir without acknowledging that it would ever happen?
Because now, in the aftermath of the Queen’s death on Sep. 8, Harry is reportedly “panicking” about the book’s contents, if The Sun is to be believed. “Sources say he may fear parts will be deemed insensitive so soon after the Queen’s death — and his dad Charles taking the throne,” the newspaper reported.
To me, a shrewd business mind and serial entrepreneur, this whole situation seems like a slam dunk for Harry: the Prince can trash his horrible little family in print for a salivating England in transition, and the Queen, the only person he respected, won’t ever know. But Harry, a bleeding heart who was allegedly paid $17.5 million for the book, seems to be getting cold feet because of this: it’s possible that he’s worried his Grannie, the Supreme Governor of the Church of England, will be able to dole out Karmic and Anglican punishment unto him from above, something she was never able to do in her Earthly kingdom.
It seems like the slightly daft, grieving little sweetie didn’t make it this far mentally, and is now in quite a Branston Pickle. Maybe he was encouraged by the bigwigs over at Penguin Random House to put in all that stuff he now regrets. Reportedly, Random House didn’t like the first draft of the book because, according to a Sun source, “it was a bit too emotional and focused far more on mental health issues than they wanted. Eventually, the final draft has been finished and signed off and a lot of money and energy has been spent to make sure it comes out this year.”
Like Harry with his grandma, that is something I am unwilling to believe.