Harry and Meghan have only been back for two weeks and their return is already a pure farce. This is the lesson they still refuse to learn: JAN MOIR

Harry and Meghan have been back in the UK for only two short weeks and already events have descended into pure, throbbing farce.

The only thing more farcical would be if the actor Brian Rix ran on from stage right in his underpants, clutching a sceptre and a jar of As Ever honey while shouting: ‘Anyone here want to thrive not just survive?’

Come on. La rentrée of the Sussexes has been fabulous, more drama and laffs in a short space of time than even my calloused heart could have wished for.

Consider that smarter, more prudent repatriates would have slipped quietly into the Cotswolds, turned up the heating and kept a low profile until Prince Archie’s wedding day or the family returned to America, whichever came first.

But we are not dealing with a couple of wise owls here, we are dealing with a pair of diehard scowls; a prickly duo who take offence at shadows, who don’t do humble and who seem to have learned nothing from their six years in California, nor the fraught prelude that heralded their exile.

In the 17 days since the Sussexes returned, there has been a stern edict from King Charles via the Lord Chamberlain, in which the monarch told more than 100 senior stakeholders across the country that his younger son and daughter-in-law were not to be treated as working royals.

With this instruction came a reminder that their HRH titles remain in the deep freeze – along with that pardon for the Duke of Windsor, an apology for beheading Mary Queen of Scots and the general reluctance for the Windsors to give anyone, dead or alive, the royal prerogative of mercy.

One can only admire their resilience and toughness. This family of doughty matriarchs and prematurely balding pragmatists haven’t survived 109 years in the ascendant because they are a soft touch or don’t know how to write a letter dripping with tacit menace.

Don’t Harry and Meghan realise that history will define their Sussex legacy as a couple of huffy gnats attacking the gold-plated rump of a bloodline that stretches back a thousand years? Of course not. They still think they’re important.

In response to their sudden arrival, the King issued a letter that basically said listen up guys and dudes; this pair of chancers have no official standing as royal representatives here, so please don’t offer them even a whiff of red carpet. Or anything approaching a curtsey, a bow, a freedom of the city, an ornamental plaque, a ribbon-cutting opportunity.

The message was clear. Give Harry and Meghan an inch in Winchester and they’ll take a royal mile in Edinburgh. And if anyone bends over as the Sussexes approach, it should only be to unfold the warning signs. Danger: Slippery Surface Ahead. Handle With Caution. Do Not Touch (with a Tudor bargepole). And so on.

The letter prompted an immediate pushback from the status-conscious duke and his prickle of a duchess. For, instead of acting with diplomacy and tact, H&M sulk at everything that displeases them, like a bubble-gum pop duo forever enraged that they are not treated as serious artists.

The old mistrusts soon rose to the surface once more, like a swirl of tea leaves in a bitter brew. The couple made it known that even though they object to being photographed, approached, written about, judged, filmed or scrutinised, they did not like the King defining them as private citizens and made it obvious he should have cleared the statement with them first.

Not least because they want to be known as public figures instead – but what is the difference? More than a couple of million pounds per annum, for a start.

Remarkably, it seems to have escaped the Sussexes’ critical thinking that they have no official agency in a country where the King does not need to run a sovereign statement past them nor their office for approval. Kids, this is a monarchy – not a mid-market company flogging flower sprinkles and overpriced sparkling wine to gullible shoppers. Get a grip.

Yet it was what happened next that is so worrying, that points to a troublesome and potentially unsustainable future. For in a bizarre move this week, General Muhoozi Kainerugaba, the son of Uganda’s leader President Yoweri Museveni, announced that his country’s team would now not be participating in the Invictus Games because he supported the King and not this ‘Meghan-Harry nonsense’ that followed their return to the UK.

Shrewd and tactical thinkers would have ignored this intervention from the dodgy son of an even dodgier leader – neither man has a human rights record that is entirely spotless in a country where homosexuality and ‘Western influences’ are facing increasing censure.

Yet Harry and Meghan went on to blame King Charles for this development and seemed to treat the news as a blow. Never mind that not so long ago a Ugandan author was arrested and allegedly threatened with having his legs broken for criticising Museveni and calling his son an ‘obese curmudgeon’.

Don’t the Duke and Duchess of Sussex – who have extensively criticised the British Royal Family for unconscious bias on race and the British people for their ‘damaging’ stiff-upper-lip attitudes – have something censorious to say about this shower of bullies?

It seems not. In addition, Uganda – one of the poorest countries in the world – only announced its participation in Invictus two months ago. Does this abrupt withdrawal suggest they were never really serious about joining in the first place? Could they even afford it?

Prince Harry means well, but roaming free in the big, bad world means that some see him merely as a useful idiot; a grinning, gingery opportunity for despots and others to grasp at this unfettered wisp of royal respectability.

In the meantime, Harry made his first British public appearance this week – signing an autograph wall at a podcast studio in London. You have to laugh. Otherwise you’d sob for a century. And as I said, this is only week two.

Spice ‘hits’ no one needs to hear…

The good news? The Spice Girls will not be embarking on a world tour to celebrate the 30th anniversary of their debut hit, Wannabe.

The bad news? Instead, they are to release a £277 music boxset of every song they ever recorded, including some previously unheard ‘gems’.

Eh? What fresh horror is this? I’m scrabbling for the earplugs as we speak.

It is hard to imagine that the Spices, bless them, have any sonic treasures lying around that might delight even their most diehard and demented fans.

When I saw them live in Dublin in 2019, the four Spices – no Posh – struggled to fill a 23-song set, which was padded out with dull fillers and precious few killers.

The girls only had about half a dozen hits; the rest was utter rubbish.

Friendship never ends, but thankfully their singing careers did.

Bonnie Blue AND her baby should both be in care

Porn star Bonnie Blue makes a lot of money, and she believes this justifies everything she does.

Her most famous stunt was a record-breaking session last year where she had sex with 1,057 men in a 12-hour period in a London hotel – an event that was turned into a documentary.

‘I loved seeing how many men had wedding rings on,’ she said in the film. ‘I just loved knowing I was doing something their wives should’ve done.’

It is hard to imagine, following such desperate and prolonged degradation, that Bonnie – real name Tia Billinger – adores and worships men, but she certainly seems to despise women.

After becoming pregnant at a ‘breeding event’ where she claimed to have had unprotected sex with 400 men, Bonnie, 27, gave birth to her first child last month. What a lovely start in life for a little baby!

Her latest stunt finds her posing with her newborn, alongside the three men (wearing balaclavas) she is about to be filmed having sex with. Bonnie, who is originally from Nottinghamshire, looks barely recovered from the birth, but is raring to go.

‘The six-week rule doesn’t apply to me because I had a C-section,’ she boasts.

Dear God. Conservative leader Kemi Badenoch has called Bonnie ‘grotesque’ for using her baby to promote a sex stunt – insisting: ‘It’s not right.’

Shadow equalities minister Joy Morrissey has reported her to the NSPCC. Bonnie is unrepentant. ‘Oh, are the Conservatives still going? I suppose name-dropping me is one way of trying to stay relevant,’ retorts this young woman, for whom being relevant is clearly everything.

I agree with the politicians. This is a safeguarding issue. Not just for the baby, but for Bonnie Blue, too. Both of them should be in care.

Andy Burnham says national security cannot come at the cost of social security; what further proof do we need that the UK is sinking into a benefits culture bog; a morass so deep that we will never be able to clamber out of it. Or pay for it.

The Conservatives have claimed £4billion could be cut from the housing benefit bill, in part by allowing tenancies in areas where housing is expensive to come to an end. That seems entirely reasonable, but Labour are reacting as if Kemi and co were throwing barefoot urchins out into the street to starve.

Tax hikes and a new tourist tax, alongside the deification of the feckless, the lazy and the illegal as the Government metes out more punishment beatings for hard-working, tax-paying strivers. Here we go, down and down into the socialist abyss, into the place where frozen bus fares are seen as a great triumph and everyone levels down to the bottom of the bottom.

I’m praying for a spring election and for Prime Minister Kemi B. It can’t come a day too soon. And it is our only hope.

Why, why, why would anyone ditch Sir Tom?

Sir Tom Jones is unhappy because he believes ITV has sacked him from The Voice – for the sin of becoming old. He did not want to go because he ‘loves the show’.

He also said: ‘There is never a good time to fire an 86-year-old who is still pretty good at his job.’

And he is right. It must be painful to be let go when you feel you still have so much to give. Add to this the embarrassment of your insurance premiums becoming so high that the television company does not want to pay them. Or uses this as an excuse to boot you into touch.

The terrible irony is that Sir Tom was and is the best thing on the show. For many of the young contestants, he was still their first pick as a mentor.

Who would you choose? Sir Tom, who was famous and successful for over 50 years and knows better than anyone how to navigate the highs and lows of showbusiness? Or bimbette Cheryl Cole?

Twenty-five years have passed since 9/11. Those born after 2001 might never fully grasp the helpless horror we felt as events unfolded in real time on TV screens across the world.

News travelled slower in those days. The first plane hitting the North Tower of the World Trade Center was captured on video by only three cameras – and only one provided clear footage. By the time the second plane hit 17 minutes later, dozens of cameras were trained on the scene. But still nothing like the hundreds of smartphone cams that would no doubt be deployed today.

Smartphones were inventions far in the future – and sometimes I feel that might be a blessing of sorts. To have borne witness to the last moments of all those innocent people, as relayed on their phones and iPads, would have been unbearable. Today, my thoughts are with all the families who had no choice but to bear the deaths of their loved ones. May they all rest in peace.