CALLAHAN: Harry hasn’t just gotten furious with William recently for just existing. He always has

Here’s a piece of wisdom that has clearly eluded Prince Harry: it’s better to keep silent and be thought foolish than to speak up and remove all doubt.

Now that we’re all taking an early look at his memoir ‘Spare’ – first released in Spain, so these quotes are translations – there’s no doubt that the Harry we’ve come to know, the Duke of Disgrace and Infamy, is just that petty. For all his name-calling and settling of accounts (William pushed me!), no one in these pages looks worse than Harry himself.

No trifle is too small to go unnoticed: William took the better bedroom in Balmoral, the bigger one with a view. ‘My half was smaller and less luxurious,’ writes our fallen prince, because – wait a minute – ‘Willy was the heir, while I was the reserve.’

We know. We got the memo a long, long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away.

But if there’s a unifying theme to Harry’s otherwise gilded existence, this is it.

His entire family, Harry writes, used these terms, which is why Harry, with all his wealth, privilege and access to the world’s most powerful people, has chosen to indulge in a warm bath of willful self-pity at the age of 38. .

“I was the shadow, the secondary actor, Plan B,” Harry writes. “They brought me into this world in case something happened to Willy. My mission was to provide a source of distraction, entertainment and, if necessary, a spare part. A kidney maybe. A blood transfusion, a pinch of marrow.’

The melodrama!

In wicked retaliation, Harry writes of William’s “familiar frown, which had always been the norm in his intercourse with me”—wonder why, asks a weary world—”his alarming alopecia, more advanced than mine; his famous resemblance to our mother, which faded over time. With the years.’

Bitter, bitter, bitter. And this is a guy who thinks he’s a mental health thought leader.

For all his name-calling and settling of accounts (William pushed me!), no one in these pages looks worse than Harry himself.

For all his name-calling and settling of accounts (William pushed me!), no one in these pages looks worse than Harry himself.

There are words and concepts in this book that, frankly, could only have come from Harry’s ghostwriter. Are we to believe that our insignificant duke, who struggled to complete high school and in these pages shows incuriosity about anything unrelated to his ‘genetic pain’, is familiar with: Arthurian legend? Druidic groves? Astronomy, the Webb telescope, the Earendel star? The physics of contrails? The definition of the same?

According to Harry’s own account here, his history professor once asked him, “What could be weirder?” . . than a British prince who does not know his country’s history? . . . We are talking about your relatives, blood of your blood; does that mean nothing to you?’

Harry’s reply: “Less than nothing, sir.”

The motto of the book, which appears again in the text, is William Faulkner’s famous line: ‘The past is never dead. It’s not even over.’

Bless Harry’s ghostwriter – who really deserved his salary – for convincing Harry that these lines should stay in the book:

‘When I recently discovered that quote on BrainyQuote, I was shocked. I thought, ‘Who the hell is Faulkner, and how is he related to us Windsors?’

Oh lord, my sides, this is too funny and what we all think isn’t it, Harry the product of England’s best school and such a determined, useless idiot.

The Harry we’ve seen after Mexgit – angry, mean-spirited, spoiled, jealous, full of resentment, name calling and disrespect, narcissistic and furious at his brother for only existing – has always been like this.

Those history lessons, which Harry writes, bore him to tears, only manage to rekindle his gigantic inferiority complex.

“My family had me annulled; the Spare,” he writes – having seen in these pages examples of King Charles’ fatherly love and care, of the bond forged with William in the crucible of Diana’s death.

But further we go: Charles and William, he writes, could never travel together for fear of a plane crash. But Harry?

“Nobody cared who I traveled with; the reserve can always be replenished.’

Right. His father and brother, who have kept their mouths shut while Harry relentlessly shames and sells them out, clearly don’t care about our Harry.

He reveals more of himself here than he probably realizes: he so badly wants to be seen as not just a man, but a warrior who will stop at nothing to protect his family and his rightful place in the royal line. It’s actually pathetic. Especially since he so clearly possesses none of the qualities that make a man or a decent person real: loyalty, kindness, honor, generosity, discretion, reliability.

Here's a piece of wisdom that has clearly eluded Prince Harry: it's better to keep silent and be thought foolish than to speak up and remove all doubt.

Here's a piece of wisdom that has clearly eluded Prince Harry: it's better to keep silent and be thought foolish than to speak up and remove all doubt.

Here’s a piece of wisdom that has clearly eluded Prince Harry: it’s better to keep silent and be thought foolish than to speak up and remove all doubt.

No surprise Harry opens this book with a “secret meeting” he requested with Charles and William after Mexgit, after Prince Philip died, the trio stood over Wallis Simpson’s grave, “our feet almost on top” of her face, writes he.

In case you missed the metaphor, Meghan would be Wallis. Yeah, big bad Charles and William won’t be happy until Meghan is dead and buried and they can stand on her face.

And because they agreed to a secret meeting with Harry, William and Charles were rewarded with the “private” meeting memorialized in his book.

Did he lie to them? Of course not!

Harry tells us that there is no such thing as “the truth” – only his truth, sifted and molded into his worldview. “My memory is my memory: it goes at its own pace and collects and arranges what seems appropriate to it, and there is as much truth in what I remember and how I remember it as in the so-called objective facts.”

In other words, Harry, living in Harry’s World as a child, doesn’t get through.

So it follows that there is no real self-evaluation in this memoir, no taking responsibility for any of these relationships that Harry – of that “be nice” motto – has so viciously destroyed.

Zero self awareness. No understanding of what “hypocrisy” means, or how he and Meghan embody that term.

The most striking thing about this book is not the revelations. No, it’s the dissonance between the way Harry moves through the world – it’s all rather vague, boring and obvious – versus the writing, which tries to get a much more sophisticated, better-read, smarter, more agile and curious mind about to bring.

And so ‘Spare’ is yet another major self-inflicted wound, a broadside against #BrandSussex: these two are always selling completely inauthentic versions of themselves. There are echoes of Meghan here:

The Harry we've seen after Mexgit - angry, mean-spirited, spoiled, jealous, full of resentment, name calling and disrespect, narcissistic and furious at his brother for only existing - has always been like this.

The Harry we've seen after Mexgit - angry, mean-spirited, spoiled, jealous, full of resentment, name calling and disrespect, narcissistic and furious at his brother for only existing - has always been like this.

The Harry we’ve seen after Mexgit – angry, mean-spirited, spoiled, jealous, full of resentment, name calling and disrespect, narcissistic and furious at his brother for only existing – has always been like this.

‘Motherland’, writes Harry, ‘what a problematic expression.’ The crown: colonialist, imperialist, racist. And how do you take down Charles, who so gracefully walked Meghan halfway down the aisle at her wedding?

Harry tells us that his father still carries his childhood teddy bear with him everywhere.

It’s one thing for Harry, as he does here, to introduce Camilla in these pages as The Other Woman (and wow, how well William comes across here, acknowledging his father’s happiness). But in my opinion it is inexcusable to write that his father, the reigning monarch, is still so scarred by being bullied that he still wants his teddy bear.

“Teddy accompanied my father everywhere,” Harry writes in part. “It was pitiful, with broken arms, frayed and stained.”

You know what’s pathetic? Mocking the personal pain and vulnerabilities of those closest to you for public consumption and profit, then demanding that they apologize to you.

I can’t wait to see ‘Spare’ where it belongs: the residual bin.

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