The Harry and Meghan travelling circus rolled into Cape Town this week and brought with it a pack of around 50 clowns making up the pesky media contingent who are tasked with documenting their every move. You’re talking to one of those clowns.
It’s a back to basics 10-day tour which naturally began in the community of Nyanga on the outskirts of Cape Town — a district described as a “murder capital”. What do you wear to a murder capital? Duh. Strappy wedge sandals.
While the couple’s motorcade of specially-shipped Range Rovers and security tore through the dirt streets and arrived at the local methodist church at the very minute the event was scheduled to take off, the mangy media was left to find the murder capital themselves.
“That’s not a place for you,” one local replied when asked if Uber would go to Nyanga.
Before coming to South Africa to stalk the couple, people gasped and warned of carjackings. Concerning. But then I found out the coffee is amazing and the wine is cheap and, for the first time in my life, I understood what a silver lining was.
I took my chances. No carjackings yet but there was a moment where I was skipping down a dark backstreet late at night while wearing capri pants and holding two cups of gelato from a really cute ice creamery and, honestly, I would’ve rolled myself for being so white and dumb.
Anyway, jet lagged and on an overwhelming alcohol-caffeine-sugar combination high, I swiftly recruited a local reporter and a National Geographic journalist and started a mean girls clique — which basically involves standing at the back of the media pack and doing impersonations of all the British press.
The palace reporters arrive super early and wait around in the sun for 90 minutes before an event kicks off.
Top tip from me to you: You can go shopping and just arrive 10 minutes before Meghan and Harry and then push in front of all the losers who got their early. Just crawl between their legs and hover there until they jump back. People get very uneasy when an adult crawls between their legs.
This is very serious business and everyone’s chasing The Moment. What is The Moment? Dunno. It could be anything. You only know when you see it. Some days, The Moment might not even come. But when it does, you better catch it.
That’s why the second Harry and Meghan arrive at any location, a soundtrack of rapid-fire camera clicks plays and doesn’t stop until they’re out of sight. You follow them closely all day on the entire tour and they look at you directly in the eye but you never utter a word. It’s like every relationship I’ve ever had.
It’s a bloodbath and god help anyone or anything that gets in the way of The Moment. An intimate meeting at Monwabisi Beach was interrupted after pesky kids from a local surf group — who were teaching the couple about their project helping vulnerable youth with mental health — got in the way of The Moment. Even though it was their moment, they were obstructing The Moment.
“Marnie! Maaaaar-nie! Oi! Marnie! Those kids are in the way,” an irate British pap yelled at the frazzled palace advisor, interrupting the special interaction but not caring at all because, as it’s written in the bible, pics or it didn’t happen.
Marnie gets blamed for everything. Even when we know it’s not her fault, it’s just funny to blame British people for things because they get so wound up about it.
At one point everyone was made hike up five flights of stairs and Marnie had to go into hiding.
The Moment we all secretly want is for Meghan to mouth, “Stop fricking touching me,” every time Harry puts his hand on her lower back to guide her.
But The Moment the world was really hanging out for was Archie’s big appearance. Maybe he’d arrive on a zebra, dressed in a Union Jack onesie and give a speech about apartheid before offering his own detailed plan for world peace.
Turns out he’s a massive diva and refused to show up to any event over the first two days. Everyone was getting fed up with his Mariah Carey behaviour.
“Where’s Archie? Oi! WHERE. IS. ARCHIE?” that irate British pap squawked at Meghan and Harry as the couple evaded a dancing clown in the streets of the cultural hub of Bo-Kaap. This tour is perhaps the only moment anyone has ever been annoyed that someone didn’t bring their kid with them to a public event.
An ultimatum was set by the press: If Meghan and Harry don’t bring out the baby, then they have to reveal the name of their secret dog.
Apparently they have a dog and no one knows what it’s called and neighbours around that dust pit Frogmore Cottage have been told to not even pat the dog to ensure its privacy. Honestly the dog sounds like more of a diva than Archie. It’s probably named something like Clarabella.
The challenge was set. But the Sussexes are so uptight about keeping this damn dog’s name secret they ended up giving in and sacrificing their own child — wheeling him out the following day at a meeting with Desmond Tutu.
Still, it’s too little too late. The media pack is going stir-crazy and the Sussexes better play ball when they reunite in Johannesburg on Tuesday. And if Marnie makes us walk up another flight of stairs, Clarabella is gonna cop it.
Featured Image: Meghan, Duchess of Sussex and Prince Harry, Duke of Sussex, are on a royal tour in South Africa … with James Weir. Photo / news.com.au