On Wednesday morning I was met with a somewhat unforeseen and uncomfortable scenario: defending Jeremy Corbyn. Whilst this is not a position I intend to make a habit of, the onslaught that has followed his silence during a rendition of the national anthem has rendered me with no option but to plead for the defence.
I don't think Prince Andrew is a serious threat to the survival of the House of Windsor. Even as the Queen's second son, he's pretty low down the succession pecking order, below Charles, William, the infant Prince George and Harry. And after all, our history is littered with princes behaving badly. The real threat to the family firm is Andrew's big brother.
The sheer waste of taxpayers' money that goes into the coffers of this dysfunctional family of glorified benefit claimants is surely a crime. We have just seen the tax shenanigans of Prince Charles laid bare, while an intelligent and reasoned explanation of both Prince Andrew and Prince Edward remains at large.
The thing about politicians is - if they're not talking, or furiously thinking of a way out of their latest web of deceit, or maybe sleeping (a swift forty winks on the backbenches, the ultimate power nap), then they're most likely at some or other official function, stuffing their faces with the finest of freebie food and drink.