HONESTLY, this car chase through the streets of Manhattan the other night? It was really scary.
Not as much as my stepmom when she finds out that I’ve been a little mean to Dad, but one doesn’t exaggerate when describing moments of life and death.
Yes, the New York Post has been having fun at my expense.
They point out that it’s hard to drive faster than 10 mph in Manhattan at the best of times and that, in fact, our large SUVs were traveling slower than Jenny Gilruth’s local trains over the Christmas period.
And, okay, maybe you’re right when you say ‘Why did you get in a New York cab, you redheaded fool? Have you never seen Taxi Driver? But before you say it, this wasn’t a PR stunt.
Megs received the Woman of Vision award the other night and even she couldn’t have seen it coming, a test that could have ended in death. Yes. Death.
If we had been walking the streets of Manhattan for much longer, unable to get rid of the porridge, terminal boredom could have arrived.
At the very least, we could have become physically ill; if you’ve been eating thermidor lobster all night and then you go around in a taxi with cheap shock absorbers, it will repeat itself, won’t it?
Yes, I know all the cynics will say that this fits perfectly with our narrative, that we all care about Triple A politics; Attention, Anger and Pride, that we must opt for a quiet life.
A British cynic, it may have been William, had the nerve to gossip; ‘Harry, if you can’t afford the pain that comes with a high-profile life, take Ann Widdecombe’s advice; she didn’t buy a cheese sandwich. But here is my answer; What’s the world headed for when you can’t make it to a multi-million dollar gala night downtown entertainment world, with Megs wearing a cute £10k dress, without a low-rent snapper trying to steal a photo? Because in addition to being a story of near catastrophe, this is also a story of danger.
I’m currently going to court in the UK to demand police protection, even if this scenario would never have happened in Britain because of the Ipso Publisher’s Code of Practice, because if we don’t get that, what if my driver slows down and the fries then take photos? that we can’t possibly copyright? Isn’t that extremely dangerous?
It is about our right to cling to the absolute privacy that we have fought so hard for, that we have constantly demanded in international television like Opra, our Netflix series, and my best-selling book, for which I received a handsome $20 million advance.
So, we are not, as the Post described to us, ‘The Duke and Duchess of Hazard’. I’m just a simple Montecito chicken farmer with a wife that used to be one day TELEVISION actress desperately trying to be treated like royalty.