Sorry Harry, but your beautiful bolter has failed my Mum Test
WHEN I look at Meghan Markle – the American small-screen actress currently starring as ‘ Harry’s Hottie’ – I can’t help it. I assess her as a future daughter-in-law. Prince Harry, 32, lost his mother when he was a boy, and ever since that dark day I’ve had feelings for him. Maternal feelings. And every time he has a girlfriend, I subject her to the ‘Mum Test’. I try to decide whether Princess Diana (and the Queen) would give Chelsy, or Cressida, or Jenna, or whomever, the thumbs-up or down as a potential Royal consort and addition to The Firm.
So I have done my due diligence on Miss Markle, and this is where I stand. Genetically, she is blessed. If there is issue from her alleged union with Prince Harry, the Windsors will thicken their watery, thin blue blood and Spencer pale skin and ginger hair with some rich and exotic DNA. Miss Markle’s mother is a dreadlocked African-American lady from the wrong side of the tracks who lives in LA, and even the sourest spinster has to admit that the 35-year-old actress is extremely easy on the eye. Miss Markle has an active social conscience, and anti-landmine campaigner Princess Diana would be delighted that she is the Ambassador for World Vision and has toured Afghanistan and Rwanda as part of her humanitarian effort.
She is also an accomplished actress and, indeed, her role as sultry paralegal Rachel Zane in TV series Suits is so popular that some clips from it have been viewed many, many thousands of times online (on a site I’m afraid readers will be unacquainted with called YouPorn).
Like Princess Diana, she wears her heart on her sleeve, and is emotionally open. ‘My cup runneth over,’ she told the Toronto Sun, in
I MOANED about Halloween last week and then what: riots, mobs hurling fireworks, masked biker rallies, murder – and to top it all some kindly ‘trick or treater’ buzzed a brick through our darkened front window (£125 to the local glazier). This night of licensed thuggish mayhem has no place on our shores. I call on Home Secretary Amber ‘Rivers of’ Rudd to… do something. her only comment on her new squeeze. ‘And I’m the luckiest girl in the world.’
As part of my research I had a look at her Instagram feed, along with the rest of the world, trying to read clues of her relationship status into pictures of bananas spooning and one of a jigsaw puzzle and a tea cup. (That one’s easy. ‘Jigsaw and cup of tea?’ is, obvs, the couple’s secret, social media code for ‘Netflix and chill?’)
APART from these teasing images (which add to the impression this showgirl has expertly ‘played’ the playboy Prince) you will find motivational quotes such as ‘Throw Kindness Around Like Confetti’ and cute pictures of her two rescue dogs. This is all good so far, but there are, I admit, a couple of things that don’t pass the Mum Test.
She’s divorced and, as soon as she met Prince Harry, she is said to have dropped her gorgeous chef boyfriend like a hot brick, as she reeled in the biggest fish in the dating universe by not replying to Harry’s texts for several days (that old trick!).
And that’s a red line for a future mother-in-law. You see, if a girl does it to one man, to two men – there’s every chance she’ll do it to your son, too. As far as the Royal Family is concerned, a bolter is far worse than a black sheep.
Harry needs a sticker, a tremendous, limpet-like sticker, like Sophie Wessex. Or Kate Middleton. Nobody cares that Miss Markle is mixed race or a tease, but racy is a different story. Racy is not official Wife Material. Flirty Harry has met his match – and that means one thing.
I’ve turned up my hearing aid, but I’m still not hearing wedding bells, not this side of the Atlantic, anyway. Miss Markle may be truly scrumptious, but she still fails my Mum Test.