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Why Prince Harry gets my vote
THE people have spoken. The count is in. The long wait is over. And the winner is...
Prince Harry.
Just voted Britain's most eligible bachelor. Long live the dashing young prince. And not that baldie Prince William either. We're so over him.
This year it's the flame-haired polo-playing one who has captured the nation's heart. And what's not to like?
Apart from the Nazi fancy dress, floor spitting and occasional ill-concieved home movie, he's a right charmer.
And he can fly a helicopter too. Swoon. I think it's sweet.
In troubled times people fall back on the ideals of their youth and reach out to a Prince Charming to save the day.
Especially one cutting as sincere a figure as Harry did on a Royal visit to America last week. One minute he was stiff-lipped at Ground Zero, the next, smiling disarmingly at the crowds.
To people he's their knight in shining armour, the Prince of Hearts.
Except, I'm not sure that's the reason why he's number one. The similarities with this summer's other most eligible bachelor, Cristiano Ronaldo, make that all too clear.
Money. Loads of money.
And more specifically, a talent for publicly chucking it away.
This week barely a day has passed without pictures of Ronaldo and entourage strutting around Las Vegas nightclubs chucking 20,000 of Dom Perignon on the floor.
Prince Harry meanwhile, staggers red-faced out of so many London nightclubs, the paparazzi can barely be bothered to snap him any more.
His favourite watering hole is renowned for its members-only seats and a treasure chest stuffed full of booze.
At another, different tables spend evenings trying to outdo each other with increasingly excessive rounds of drinks which are read out on loudspeakers. Classy.
But the people sloshing their filthy money around are still surrounded by hordes of admirers while they do it.
Actually, I'm just jealous.
Even if I cleared my throat and announced my order of two pints of bitter and a packet of dry-roasted to the crowd at the Upper George, I doubt it would impress.
And if I got involved in any sort of booze bidding war it would soon see me walking home penniless.
Sadly I'm just not cut out to be Britain's most eligible bachelor. Like a high-stakes poker game, I wouldn't even make it to the table.
But with Harry and all the rest for company, I'm not too fussed.
Britain is supposed to have talent and this is the best we can do. Maybe we need to look at what makes a prince charming again?
If you're going to bother kissing a frog you might as well hope for something decent at the end.
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Saturday 11 February 2012
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