Katie Hopkins Do we really need the Royal family

Katie Hopkins Do we really need the Royal family

This weekend the Duke of Cambridge and Prince Harry will rededicate their mother's grave in a special service to remember her on her birthday.

Little Prince George and Princess Charlotte will be there, imbibing the thoughts and reflections of their parents about a grandma they never knew.

It feels like a comforting and kind way to spend what would have been Diana's birthday, in marked contrast to the image we all share of the two boys, William and Harry, walking behind her coffin 20 years ago.

Prince Harry has said that was something no child should ever have to go through. Speaking in an interview earlier this month , he said: 'My mother had just died, and I had to walk a long way behind her coffin, surrounded by thousands of people watching me while millions more did on television.

'I don't think any child should be asked to do that, under any circumstances. I don't think it would happen today.'

I completely agree. I chatted with my children about whether they would feel alright about going to grandpa's funeral, and talked through what it would be like, all within the privacy of our home, surrounded by the family they know best.

When it comes to Diana and that terrible day, I feel as sorry for the boys now as I did then.

A shared national fondness for those boys has continued into their manhood. (Prince George and Princess Charlotte are by far the cutest kids any royal has ever produced, and none of us knows how Kate keeps them looking immaculate in dungarees and smocked dresses. Do they never eat? Or spill stuff?)

Harry remains one of the most popular of the grown-up gang because he seems the most normal. He is undoubtedly the most exposed – in every sense – and the most human in his vulnerability.

But – it's time for him to start rethinking some of that normality that has made him so popular.

If he is just like us, thinks like us, acts like us, can't be a***d like us, and is a great deal less productive than your average scaffolder – do we really need to pay for him to live in a palace and for his vacations?

Despite my soft spot for the boy, I'm erring on saying 'no' to the man.

Last week, in a fit of over-sharing, he casually mentioned that no one in the top team actually wants the top job. In a wide-ranging interview with Newsweek magazine, he said: 'Is there any one of the royal family who wants to be king or queen? I don't think so, but we will carry out our duties at the right time.'

Don't force yourself, son. I mean – as long as you carry out your duties at the right time, like some pinched-faced old midwife in Crocs who slops reluctantly towards your hoohah to catch your baby just before it hits the floor, that's alright then?

Cheers for the enthusiasm. Thanks for being so excited about paying back the easy privilege in which you live.

Reluctant royal? That's being kind. Petulant boy? Quite possibly.

I am gobsmacked how a man so in touch with his emotions can sound so cripplingly autistic at the thought of taking over at the helm of an institution that is supposed to be the beating heart of Britain.

It's the sort of comment he might make to his brother at home on the sofa. Not to a journalist desperate for a scoop.

Does he even consider the ordinary people who sleep on the pavements, line the Mall, and wave their little flags in support of Queen and Country whenever there is a big event? Does he consider their hearts, their emotions, the struggles they face in their daily lives? Does he see what they give up just to be a tiny dot in the crowd – working hard, paying taxes to help fund the royals and their palaces, and then paying to rock up and support them just to be part of it all?

In those brief moments when the Palace and the Mall are bedecked with the Union Flag and we are allowed to enjoy a sense of patriotism without being heckled as deluded racists, my heart swells with pride.

I wish Harry would at least attempt to respect this patriotic fervour next time he opens his mouth. As opposed to sounding as begrudging as if he might one day have to work at the drive-through window at McDonald's. (A job for which I earned a gold star. I accept your admiration, thank you.)

The contrast with the Queen could not be more stark. At the age of 21 she dedicated her life – 'whether it be short or long' – to the service of her people, and she has never once shirked her task.

This Thursday, aged 91, she travelled to the House of Commons in a jaunty hat that poked fun at the prats in Brussels and valiantly ploughed through an excruciating nine minutes of the worst Queen's Speech she has ever had to deliver, scripted by a bunch of idiot politicians who have cocked things up so spectacularly no one is sure of anything anymore. She was, by an epic margin, the most reliable person in the room.