Name: Jack Brooksbank.
Age: 31.
Appearance: Tim Nice But Dim.
Who is he? He’s the man who has just got engaged to Princess Eugenie of York.
Which one is she, again? The younger one.
Doesn’t help me. Brown hair, not red? Bit less jolly-looking than the other? Does it matter?
Good point. So, Eugenie’s engaged. How did they meet? In Verbier, on a skiing holiday.
What were the odds... Well, is this blighter any good then, what what? Where did he go to school? Stowe.
Stowe’s first headmaster said the school aimed to turn out young men who were “acceptable at a dance and invaluable in a shipwreck”. How does young Brooksbank measure up? He’s a former manager of Mahiki nightclub who now markets Casamigos tequila, a brand that used to be part-owned by George Clooney.
Golden pedagogic hopes all must, as chimney-sweepers, come to dust. Now, buck up. He seems like a nice lad. He and Euge have been together seven years and seem deliriously happy about their engagement.
Is everyone? I’ve seen The Crown. I know how wrong these things can go. “The Queen and the Duke of Edinburgh are very pleased and wish the couple all the best.”
That’s fabulously bloodless. Don’t worry. The Duchess of York made up for it in a series of tweets.
No phrase more dread. Indeed. The first overlaid a black-and-white portrait of the couple and read ...
I really don’t want to know. “A total embrace of goodness and joy. We love Jack and I am so excited to have a son, a brother and a best friend. Eugenie is one of the finest people I know and so together it will be pure harmony.”
Ah, Fergie. Never change. Actually, that reminds me – who will be paying for this shindig? Is it me? It had better not be me. The wedding will be paid for privately, except for the security provisions.
Throwing a cordon round the mother of the bride, eh? Ah, the old ones are the best. They’re really not.
Do say: “Congratulations!”
Don’t say: “George – how would you feel about throwing some Casamigos sponsorship pesos our way, old chap? House of York slammers all round!”
