Reading the extracts from Earl Spencer’s book about his sister Diana, and the king’s two-footed takedown of it, it’s hard to escape the idea that Spencer and the Windsors are just elite content creators now. This entire thing is basically indistinguishable from a blockbuster influencer war, and I honestly won’t be happy till the king puts out a shade TikTok of him driving round the Sandringham estate in sunglasses captioned: “Threatening to release the receipts but never actually releasing the receipts … kinda chic.” Soundtrack: Mariah Carey’s Obsessed.
Meanwhile, perhaps trying to disguise his full descent into the algorithm mines, Charles Spencer has started talking like one of those adverts for twee porcelain plates that you used to see in magazine supplements. You know the kind of thing – “these three little kittens are waiting to steal your heart”. Here is the earl on his Diana book, which he has called Swan Song: “At heart, this is a brother’s simple tribute to an extraordinary sister.” Mmm. And simply bound, very simply, into paginated form as a precious, simple keepsake that also functions as one of Penguin Random House’s lead titles for autumn and the run-in to Christmas. Favourite charming tribute from today’s serialisation in the Mail? Probably the bit when Diana drags Spencer for lunch in the London restaurant San Lorenzo to announce: “My husband is in love with his valet”. Nkay.
But the biggest tea-spill so far has been Spencer’s claim that Charles sounded “giddily elated – like a lottery winner” in a phone call to him immediately after Diana’s death, then hissed: “Rest assured … we’ll forget about her soon enough.” Which definitely sounds like the kind of thing a father of two shockingly bereaved children would say if they were the future king character in a book written by someone quite bad at writing.
By way of rejoinder, Buckingham Palace issued a statement that began with the words “while we do not comment on books as a matter of principle”, and then – hilariously – went on to comment on the book. I mean, what principles? You always see these kinds of royal statements described as “highly unusual”, and yet in recent years their sheer frequency suggests they really aren’t. The royal family – and Spencer – do absolutely everything for the ’Gram. It’s all very Alex Cooper v Alix Earle. I kept reading this week that Charles and William and Kate were “out in force” doing things like playing shinty on Bute and hosting AI summits. Yup, living for the timelines. Posting through it.
And, indeed, posting about it, as that “we won’t comment on books” statement from the king continued in the more-in-sorrow-than-in-anger vein that is so particular to a contemporary social media drive-by. “His Majesty is mindful that the pain of fraternal grief can cloud reason, affect judgment and colour memory in ways others do not recognise, even many years after such a loss.”
Wow. Apart from the pomposity, there is precisely nothing to distinguish this from the same kind of high-horse word salad you see farted out day after day by mid-tier creators involved in online beef about abortive podcast ventures or stolen brand deals. You know the kind of thing: “I’ve stayed quiet till now … But since you want to bring this to the internet, I have receipts. I’m done protecting people. The people who know, know.”
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Charles Spencer has, of course, done a whole book of this stuff, probably making him the one the internet is less likely to side with. For just as it is possible to simply get up in the morning and decide not to post something on social media that makes you look like a complete shit, it is also possible to simply not do a whole book of this stuff. Why can’t Spencer just get a turret brand to sponsor his house upkeep like Molly-Mae would? “Loving our new #pediment and #pilasters! What’s one thing you love about your house? Tell me in the comments.”
Instead, here is the earl on his Insta earlier this week: “A month ago I read ‘Swan Song’ out, over three days, for a recording so that it could be available on audiobook. When I finished the recording, I thought: ‘That is exactly what I wanted and needed to say – and she would, I reckon, have approved of every word.’” Oh for sure Diana would have approved. Nailed on. As we know, those who make money off Diana’s memory since she has died tend to do so with the absolute conviction that it’s what she would have wanted. Many of Diana’s indirect financial beneficiaries – her former psychics and energy healers, actors playing her in movies – give interviews announcing that her ghost has visited them to give the seal of approval to whichever commercial venture they’re involved in. Charles Spencer has yet to go down this route with Swan Song, though given the book isn’t actually published till next week – to permit the Mail the best run at the serial rights they paid him a fortune for – we definitely shouldn’t rule out the possibility that he’s keeping something spectral in the bag for the coming days.
Ultimately, it’s increasingly impossible to escape the conviction that the royals and those familially connected with them behave as leading influencers – selling the absolute maddest form of lifestyle that you can still somehow pass off as a gift to your followers. The other day I remembered an interview Prince Harry gave when his own book was out, where he said: “I genuinely believe, and I hope, that reconciliation between my family and us will have a ripple effect across the entire world. Maybe that’s lofty, maybe that’s naive.” Or maybe it’s just the lucrative way they all live now. Either way: #amazing.
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Marina Hyde is a Guardian columnist
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What a Time to be Alive! by Marina Hyde (Guardian Faber, £20). To support the Guardian, order your signed copy at guardianbookshop.com. Delivery charges may apply.
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