Kate And A Media Obsession

The most telling giveaway of election coverage, the revelation that this is a campaign destined to develop not necessarily to their favourite team’s advantage, is when it vanishes from the front page. Today is one of those days, the impending loss of power by the Tories replaced by an even more inexplicable obsession - the Royals, or rather, the Royals the press likes.

That means Royalty that does not complain about the sick and creepy coverage served up by our free and fearless press. Which leads us to the return to duty of the Princess of Wales. The former Kate Middleton has had her share of creepy coverage over the years, only out-creeped by what was dished out to her sister Pippa, in the years before the latter married.

The Moniker coined - most likely by the Daily Mail, under the less than benign leadership of the legendarily foul mouthed Paul Dacre - and applied to Pippa was “Her Royal Hotness”, the kind of toe-curlingly embarrassing, borderline vomit inducing, and bang out of order leering misogyny that only the inmates of the Northcliffe House bunker can get away with nowadays.

So Kate has had treatment for an undisclosed form of cancer. So have millions of 42-year-old women, most of whom then pick themselves up and get back to work, family, home, and the rest. For them, there is no press coverage, and certainly not the fawning, creepy and obsessive diet served up this morning, telling readers in no uncertain terms what to think.

The crawling tone is set by papers like the Sunday Brexit, still called the Express, proclaiming “IT’S JUST KATE TO SEE YOU AGAIN … Princess steps out for first time in six months”, and the Murdoch Sun on Sunday simpering “Princess Back On Parade … Kate wows in return to duty after cancer shock … SUPER TROOPER”. Headline writer revealing their age.

But these were a mere hors d’oeuvres for a much more sick-making entrée: cue the Mail on Sunday telling readers “Day That Lifted The Nation’s Hearts … On cue, the sun broke through the showers to shine on her - and the whole world said in unison … It’s lovely to see you too, Kate”. The name on the by-line, to no surprise at all, is that of Sarah “Vain” Vine.

The underlying aggressiveness in the headline is so obvious: the whole world thinks like this, so if you don’t, not only are you not the Mail’s kind of people, you risk incurring the displeasure of the Vagina Monologue and his attack dogs if you so much as utter a peep in protest. Thus the fear of the press at any thought of the monarchy being binned is revealed for all to see.

Moreover, the MoS is not the worst in the crawl-fest: that honour goes to the increasingly desperate and downmarket Telegraph, and the irretrievably batshit Allison Pearson. “Our Fair Lady lifts nation’s spirits [headline writer even older than the Sun’s] … On a cold, grey day, Princess proves a tonic at Trooping the Colour on her return to public life after cancer treatment”.

BIG INTERCOURSING DEAL. Cue Ms Pearson.

“Two words. Thank you. Thank you Princess of Wales for being an absolute trouper and attending Trooping the Colour on a cold, grey day when lesser mortals with your illness would have stayed home, tucked up in their jim-jams [that would not have got past the subs in Bill Deedes’ day]. Thank you for sacrificing the privacy that is so much needed to get you back to full health”.

Whatever that means to those not in possession of servants, unfeasible amounts of money, the most upmarket of property portfolios, a Government prepared to step in and foot rather a lot of the bills, and a media class ready and willing to shit all over anyone who objects to the whole circus.

The Monarchy will endure for as long as it enjoys the support of the people over whom it continues to rule. Our free and fearless press shows that it is an integral part of an Establishment frightened at the thought of reality intruding and the Royals vanishing from view. After all, if they go, what part of the power structure not based on merit will go next? Best keep the proles in line.

Which means more fawning copy when deemed necessary. Ho hum.

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