The Prince Charles Letters (8 page)

HRH The Prince of Wales

Mike Yarwood

c/o The British Broadcasting Corporation

Wood Lane

London

England

12 March 1975

Dear Mr Yarwood

‘And this is me’ – that’s your catch phrase, I believe? Well, this is
me
: Prince Charles. I say this because it has been known for my correspondence to be sent back to me on the assumption that it’s some sort of fabrication concocted by a malicious impersonator.

You, I do not consider a malicious impersonator. As a family, I should say we have raised a wry smile at your Frank Spencer, your Brian Clough, your Mr Wilson and various trade union leaders. And one is flattered to note that one has also joined the ranks of your hallowed repertoire. An honour indeed!

Might I advance a little constructive criticism, though? I sometimes look in the mirror as I practise my public speeches and I have to say, what I see doesn’t altogether tally with the version of one that one sees when one tunes into
The Mike Yarwood Show
. I don’t say this out of any wounded pique but when I see you doing me, rather than reminding me of me, it reminds me of Mike Yarwood. Indeed, I think the same could be said of your Frank Spencer, your Brian Clough, your Mr Wilson and your trade union leaders. All of them remind me of Mike Yarwood. When you say, ‘and this is me’, I need hardly reminding of it.

As I say, constructive criticism. I hope you will take this on board and that your confidence is not damaged in any long-term manner.

Affectionately, yours

HRH The Prince of Wales

Harry Secombe

c/o Broadcasting House

London

England

17 May 1977

Dear Mr Secombe

As you know, you’ve always been one of my favourite ‘funnymen’ – in times of old, you’d doubtless have capered about my court in a cap’n’bells and Harlequin’s outfit, shaking a bladder on a stick and making remarks for which I would have had my Lord Chancellor beheaded, had he dared make them. None of that in modern times, of course, though one does get the nagging feeling that in ridding ourselves of the old ways, we have perhaps lost something.

But back to the point: as an occasional mirth-maker myself (amateur, but with one or two flattering ‘notices’ under my belt!), I’m fascinated by the idea of the ‘formula’ of comedy. In your case, I’d say it’s as follows:

30% fat

25% ‘zany’ voice

40% Welsh

5% ‘x-factor’

Is that a fair summary, do you feel? I’m not, of course, saying there is anything inherently amusing about the Welsh – I’d get into fearful hot water, were I to say that – just that you make being Welsh feel very funny indeed. As for that ‘x-factor’, what is it, I wonder? Sweat? You do sweat a lot, I’ve noticed at close quarters. I hope this is not because you feel ill at ease among royalty.

Your old chum

HRH The Prince of Wales

Morecambe and Wise

c/o BBC Television Centre

London

England

6 January 1978

Dear Eric – or is it Ernie?

Anyway, it’s the funny one I wish to talk to, if that aids identification. I have a question that has been bugging me for some time – some years, in fact. It concerns your act. Now, I pride myself on having a tremendous sense of humour, within the bounds of reason, of course. And I must admit I laugh myself silly at your antics on the ‘Christmas Show’ – I am long accustomed to amusing my brother Edward with that thing you do with the paper bag.

However, there is one ‘bit’ that leaves me stone cold: when you shout the word ‘Arsenal’ for no reason. ‘Arsenal!’ you shout. But I simply don’t get it – what am I missing? They seem a creditable football team, not much better or worse than any other in the First Division on their day. I was in my rooms at the Palace the other day and tried it out on myself. ‘Arsenal!’ I barked three times at myself in the mirror. I wasn’t tickled in the least. Unfortunately, my sister Anne happened to be passing along the corridor and looked in, caught me at it and departed shaking her head, her low opinion of my mental condition apparently confirmed.

So, why ‘Arsenal’ – why not ‘Manchester United’?

Yours, in earnest curiosity

HRH The Prince of Wales

Eileen Derbyshire (aka Emily Bishop)

Coronation Street

Granada Studios

Manchester

England

15 January 1978

Dear Miss Derbyshire

I wish to pass on my condolences to Emily for the tragic and brutal death of her husband Ernest on the operating table, following a shooting on the factory floor.

I am, of course, no ‘crank’ and fully aware that all this is made up for television but even so, Emily must be very real to you and in order to play the role, you yourself must be feeling deeply for her – as we all do. It has certainly made me think deeply about crime in the streets: such senselessness, what a waste of human life. Something really must be done – and fast – so that no has to go through what you have gone through.

With deepest sympathy

HRH The Prince of Wales

Eileen Derbyshire

Coronation Street

Granada Studios

Manchester

England

18 March 1979

Dear Miss Derbyshire

I hope you don’t think it forward of me to write to you like this, especially on a delicate and rather personal matter, but
Coronation Street
has always been a favourite fixture of the Royal Household and although it is of course just a regional soap opera, I feel it is embedded in warm, earthy truth. In particular, I feel you could not play Emily Bishop as well as you do, were you not a similar sort of person yourself. It is hard, for instance, to imagine Miss Barbara Windsor (no relation) playing the same role. I particularly admired the way you handled the tragic death of your husband, Ernest.

I wonder then if I might discreetly sound out your advice on my prospects? My uncle, Lord Mountbatten, believes a young man like me should ‘play the field’, dally with a few game and saucy wenches of good breeding, but liberal inclination before ultimately settling down. Countervailing opinion, however, suggests that I ‘keep my powder dry’, so to speak, and wait for ‘Miss Right’. What would you advise were you my mother? I’d ask my own mother, but somehow I feel more comfortable asking you.

Hopefully, yours

HRH The Prince of Wales

The Producer

Coronation Street

Granada Studios

Manchester

England

6 May 1981

Dear Sir

As you know, I’m getting married to the lady who will shortly become Princess of Wales. I’d just as soon there wasn’t any fuss but you know, the bloody press, it’s all being got up as a fairytale and well, one has to do one’s duty to one’s people, who have given the King Charleses of the past a bit of a mixed reception.

Here’s the thing: my mother and grandmother are both fans of your show as, sporadically, am I (do give my warmest regards to Miss Eileen Derbyshire, or ‘Emily Bishop’, with whom I have had the pleasure of corresponding frequently), which is how I have come to discover there is a wedding planned between two of the characters – ‘Ken’ and ‘Deirdre’ – which will coincide with my own (both televised).

Now there’s always the danger that the one could ‘crowd’ out the other so I was wondering, is there any chance you might put the wedding back a few weeks? I’d hate the dashed humiliation of my own nuptials being overshadowed by a couple of made-up characters. After all, this thing between Diana and me it’s very real and if this is reality (and I suppose it is), certainly quite real.

Perhaps the scriptwriters could have ‘Ken’ postpone the wedding? He might have doubts, you know. A younger woman, a slightly older man, who may perhaps be wiser marrying someone of his own age group, perhaps a long-term, trusted companion … Thoughts along those lines could worry ‘Ken’ and he may suggest they postpone or even declare the whole thing a washout. Yes, it could be for the best. Oblige me, there’s a good fellow.

Yours &c

HRH The Prince of Wales

Judith Hann

Tomorrow’s World

BBC Television Centre

Wood Lane

London

England

6 January 1983

Dear Miss Hann

This is just to say how terrifically excited I am about appearing on
Tomorrow’s World
. It is one of my very favourite television programmes, a marvellous showcase for British know-how and ingenuity, not to mention a fascinating ‘sneak peek’ into what life will be like in the future, when no doubt my mother will be making her way to the opening of the Houses of Parliament by jetpack!

I can’t pretend my wife, Princess Diana, is interested in your show or will even be watching my appearance on it. She doesn’t trouble to hide her yawns throughout its duration and frequently glances at her watch. If she had one of the ‘time travel’ machines, which I expect British boffins are working on right now, she would use it for no other purpose than to travel from 7.00 to 7.30 each Thursday evening so that she could get straight to
Top of the Pops
– a dreadful shame, and we have had words on the subject.

I thought I would take the liberty of ‘running by you’ two or three inventions of my own, some at the garden shed stage, others still at the drawing board, all of which would need help from experts to realise their full potential as my own time is at a premium.

• 
The core-less apple: Is there a way of creating one of these things without tampering with the organic processes of nature? I hope so. Cores, quite literally, give me the pip!

• 
The self-erecting easel: I get so little time to paint and when I do, I end up spending half my time putting up the blasted easel – which, as modern contraptions go, is about as annoyingly counter-intuitive as the deckchair. It would be nice if, when moving from spot to spot, special robot legs could be devised so that the easel could simply up and walk with you, like a sort of caddy or man. I calculate that in the time saved, I might produce at least one more canvas per sitting – a real boon.

• 
The 3D Three Degrees Simulator: Imagine, you have a yen to see this tremendous singing group in person, but they are out on tour. Simply switch on the Simulator and there the three ladies are, in matching evening dresses and perfect syncopation. ‘When Will I See You Again?’ Any time you want, at the mere flick of a switch, performing their greatest hits!

I wonder if you might get one or two of your best people to work on these, particularly the last one? Also, establish the feasibility of it running off compost or animal waste?

Yours, in innovation

HRH The Prince of Wales

John Travolta

Hollywood

California

United States of America

1 December 1985

Dear Mr Travolta

You may well remember that the other evening, at a smart function, you consented to dance with my bride, Princess Diana. One felt like a lemon sitting on the edge of the dancefloor, knowing if one were to attempt the same steps oneself, one would probably be precipitated base over tip, doubtless taking one’s wife down with one and leaving one’s dignity in ruins. Meanwhile, one’s wife would be staring at one in a smoulderingly reproachful manner and a following day’s worth of papers best avoided entirely, despite their element of serious current affairs content.

None of that happened, but I couldn’t help but feel on the quiet carriage journey home that my wife was looking at me in a ‘Why aren’t you John Travolta?’ sort of way. I may be entirely mistaken in this, of course. However, it could be that as a result of your dance, she is in her own mind building you up to be quite something.

Could you be a jolly good fellow and write, assuring her perhaps that you’re not all you’re cracked up to be? That, I don’t know, you’re a dull conversationalist, or you dislike Duran Duran intensely, or that you mostly spend your days in a potting shed sorting through your collection of clay pipes? Or, if all else fails, that you’re homosexual? The future stability of the Monarchy might depend on this kind act.

Expectantly, yours

HRH The Prince of Wales

John Travolta

Hollywood

California

United States of America

18 December 1985

Dear Mr Travolta

Further to our last correspondence, I don’t know what you wrote to my wife but it doesn’t appear to have done the trick. She still looks at me like I’ve just trodden on her foot in the middle of the dancefloor. Could you possibly have another pop, taking a different ‘tack’?

Yours &c.

HRH The Prince of Wales

Harry ‘Loadsamoney’ Enfield

c/o Channel 4

Charlotte Street

London

England

12 February 1987

Dear Mr Enfield

Well, I’ll get down to brass tacks. While, as a ‘Footlights’ man, I appreciate wacky comedy, I cannot but help think that in the present climate, the flaunting of ‘wedge’ as you have it might excite resentment in the regions or rural districts, where deprivation is at its most fearful.

Could you not reasonably moderate the character? Perhaps call him Mr ‘Quite Well-To-Do, Thank You’ and cut out the flaunting of the banknotes? To compensate for any loss of humorous ‘impact’, you might have the character roll his trousers up and paint his knees green, or be called ‘Occledooze’ – that sort of thing works for Spike Milligan and myself. Or fire yourself out of a cannon and say, ‘I’m enjoying this boom!’ That is a pun, by the way.

One likes to laugh, but one must think of the inner cities.

Yours, in earnest

HRH The Prince of Wales

Ben Elton

c/o Channel 4

Charlotte Street

London

England

4 June 1987

Dear Mr Elton

So, word reaches me that you are in the frontline of ‘alternative’ comedians. Well, you’ll find in your future monarch a kindred spirit, a man who himself is a great believer in the alternative – therapies, homeopathic remedies, Reiki head massage and the like. Hang it all, we’re practically the same, you and me – impatient, wanting to see things get done!