Harry-larious.

So. The weekend in summary:  A privately-educated Royal moron (I’m sorry but he is either stupid or racist. I am being kind here) thinks it is funny to call his mate a Paki. Elsewhere, alot of people go to the cinema because they are on a stupid detox and frankly, what else is there to do when you can’t go to the pub?

First, to disgraced Prince Harry. I don’t think anyone believes that Harry genuinely represents the Great British Public  (though I am fairly sure he is meant to represent the best money can buy, education-wise) or even really the Armed Forces. What he does represent, rather neatly, is how many lightyears behind the rest of the country our cossetted Royals really are. Because, with impeccable timing, this weekend saw the Mumbai-set fairytale Slumdog Millionaire striking UK box office gold and Hollywood award gold. It would be number 1 if it wasn’t for Role Models pesky mid-week previews . It also walked away with Best Drama at the Golden Globes (a very good sign for a you-know-what). While Prince Harry is off dancing about with a video camera, playing at being a soldier and bandying about offensive terms like Raghead and Paki, the better 99.9999% of Britain are showing where Anglo-Asian relations really stand.

Slumdog is set in Mumbai, a bulk of dialogue is not in English and it has a young, relatively unknown Indian and Anglo-Indian cast. It is a fairytale of sorts, directed by Danny Boyle, it follows the journey of the unlikely winner of the Indian version of Who Wants to Be A Millionaire, a kid from the slums. People aren’t flocking to see this movie to prove a point – they are flocking to see it because a story of a young man succeeding in the face of insurmountable odds is the sort of storyline that is addictive in it’s charm. It allows you to think, for a moment, that the world is not actually the shit-filled black hole of hate that it sometimes feels like. It reminds you that swirling about with all the shit is also hope and love and youth and all that other good stuff. People need reminding of this sometimes, especially in January when emotions (not to mention thighs ) are a bit wobbly. 

It is relevant to Harry’s recent headlines because this film, unlike many other movie hits of recent months, would have probably never been a hit in 1988. In 2008 we are at the point where race, colour and culture comes second to story in terms of relevance for the audience. This is brilliant and of course where we should be. Harry’s japes, on the other hand, represent the polar opposite: a world where race is first (however casually) and all else second. Personally, what makes this film even more triumphant is that it’s success has nothing to do with silly little Harry: it simply makes him look even more ridiculous, even more out of touch and even more thickheaded than he was managing to do on his own. Score.

Maybe Harry should go and see the film? I am sure that well-earned triumph and success against the odds is something he is very curious about. Failure against the odds is more his style.