Welcome, Most-Loved Ginger in all the World

Dear Comrade Royal Highness, Prince Henry Mountbatten-Windsor, Duke of Sussex, Earl of Dumbarton, Most-Loved Ginger in all the World, May I call you Harry?

Of course I may. You are nothing if not a man of the people.

Welcome to our beautiful country. You have been here for three days and not once have you been murdered. Well done. This is quite an accomplishment, especially since your first official appearance was in the Cape Town suburb of Nyanga, fondly known as the slaughterhouse of South Africa.

I was a bit worried when I read that you had been given a warm welcome. Some visitors get greeted so warmly that they end up with third-degree burns.

Then again, we do tend to save our warmest of welcomes for our brothers from other parts of Africa.

I was going to include your lovely wife, Meghan, in my letter but then I would have to watch what I say. In my country, there are things that men say and even do to each other that is best for women not to know about.

I am sure British men are the same. When you have your mates around for a game of polo and a traditional badger braai, I bet all kinds of crazy stuff gets said while the women are in the kitchen preparing the fox carpaccio.

It’s the same with us, except our wives are more likely to be in the kitchen snorting coke or whipping up a salad drizzled in arsenic.

Can’t blame them, really. South African men are a breed apart. We are at our happiest when we’re hitting, or shouting at, something.

Did you know that we can no longer spank our children? I bet in a civilised country like yours you can do whatever you want with your kids. Your weird grandfather, Philip, sent your father to the brutal Gordonstoun boarding school where he was bullied mercilessly. It made him the man he is today.

I hope you are continuing the tradition by beating Archie mercilessly whenever he misbehaves.

I read that you were “getting into the swing of things” just hours after touching down in South Africa.

I must remind you that Piet Retief was also under the impression that he was getting into the swing of things when he visited Zulu king Dingane.

Apparently you and Meghan joined in the dancing. It’s unlikely that Piet was the dancing type, but you should know that our indigenous folk dance when they are both happy and angry. There is no way of telling the difference between a happy dance and a war dance.

You might just want to have a car nearby when the dancing breaks out.

One report said that when you thanked the crowds of well-wishers in Nyanga, you were beaming from ear to ear. This makes such a refreshing change from foreigners being slashed from ear to ear.

“I wanted to ensure that our first visit as a family focused on the significant challenges facing millions of South Africans, while acknowledging the hope that we feel so strongly,” you told the adoring crowd, many of whom had never seen an unarmed white man before.

These were well chosen words, comrade Harry, and I have no doubt that the people of Nyanga went to bed that night hoping that your hope for our hope remained unwavering. As you probably know by now, hope is an important part of our diet.

I saw a CNN headline that said, “Prince Harry and Meghan Markle empower kids in Cape Town” and my first thought was that you were handing out little designer bulletproof vests or handguns custom-made to fit snugly in a child’s hand. That’s the kind of empowerment our underprivileged kids need.

Perhaps Archie’s hand-me-down teddies Meghan gave away could be retrofitted with explosives. That would be a worthwhile project to sponsor.

Speak to your granddad. It sounds like something he’d be interested in.

Blowing up heathens should definitely be included in the Duke of Edinburgh’s Award.

I believe you visited an NGO supported by The Queen’s Commonwealth Trust.

The project’s motto is, Wathint’ abafazi wathint’imbokodo. This translates to, “’When you strike a woman, you strike a deal with her family to pay compensation, or bribe a prosecutor to make the docket disappear.”

Isn’t it wonderful that Meghan is allowed to accompany you wherever you go? Not too long ago, she would have had to wait in the car.

Come to think of it, your mob started this segregation business. The Boers simply perfected it.

I would have given anything to see the look on your family’s face when you brought her home for the first time.

Did you brief them beforehand? I hope not. I hope you sauntered into Buckingham Palace on a Saturday afternoon with her on your arm, casually poured a couple of double brandies and took her out onto the balcony for a joint.

They might have hoped she was from Essex, freshly returned from holidaying in Benidorm. That would explain the tan.

Of course, once you returned to the White Drawing Room, stoned and giggling, they would have detected the American accent.

Double whammy.

Once the smelling salts had been deployed to revive your grandmother and the handmaids had prised your father off a semiconscious Camilla, you would have explained that Meghan is, in fact, a television star and a Democrat.

On the other hand, the royal family isn’t exactly founded on democratic principles.

Did you and Meghan have words? I bet she said something like: “What the f**k is this bollocks about the divine right of kings? I want to see some goddamn elections around here.”

There is a certain poetry, though, in you hooking up with a Yank all these years after Edward VIII was forced to abdicate after doing the very same thing.

Not that you’re in a similar situation. He was already the king, while you have no chance of wearing that jewel-infested crown.

Actually, you do. All you have to do is kill your father, your brother and all his children.

I’m sure the thought has crossed your mind.

Perhaps that’s why you chose South Africa as your first stop. If there is one thing we know, it’s how to get rid of unwanted family members.

Shrien Dewani only paid R15,000 to off his wife. I imagine you’d get quite a tidy group discount.

I have to say, Harry, your country appears to be in a frightful mess. Worse than ours, in some ways.

It seems clear what needs to be done. Incarcerate the appalling Boris Johnson in the Tower of London and leave him to the ravens.

Good luck with the rest of the tour. And don’t forget to wear a hat. I see you’re developing a bit of a crop circle on your nut.

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