The royals have kept their finances as secret as their scandals, says Fleet Street Fox. Prince Andrew’s latest efforts to blend the two means the lid is off and worms are everywhere
If you ask a random person what the Royal Family is for, they will screw their face up a bit, and then say “tourism”.
And this is in spite of the fact no tourist seriously expects to ever see a prince, Versailles seems to get a lot of visitors even though their royals are all décapité, and we’d get better Tripadvisor reviews if they were actually allowed to enter the king’s bedchamber. And besides, Madam Tussaud’s exists.
If the person you’ve asked is a constitutional expert – which seems to be the one thing Brexit gave us more of – they may add that the monarch assents to laws, shakes the hands of appalling people no politician would want to go near, and is head of the Church of England. Which is often appalling, and most of Britain doesn’t want to go near it.
Inevitably, they will hit upon something they heard once about how the royals only cost us a few pennies each and they’re very good value for money, considering all the fun we have at their expense. For the greatest trick the royals ever pulled was convincing the peasants that all the gold and palaces were worthless, and that they danced to our tune.
If the person you’ve asked is Prince Andrew, he’ll ask you who the hell you think you are, get out of his house, and what do you mean I need to pay rent. Of course the correct answer would be “we are your landlord, it’s our house, and you’re not the King so rent is due or it’s the bailiffs for you, chum”. And if the briefings from courtiers is accurate – which of course it probably isn’t – this is exactly the conversation King Charles is having this week with this troublesome, troubling younger brother.
For Andrew lives in a 30-room mansion on the Windsor estate with no obvious income, which has led to a succession of unsavoury types for whom his attention has so often been reluctantly dragged from the delights of a children’s party at Pizza Express in Woking. And with the revelation that he hasn’t paid a penny of rent for two decades has come the deferential suggestion that maybe the taxpayer isn’t getting full value for money from the deal.
Well no. But then we haven’t had value for money out of the Royal Family since Alfred the Great. There’s been repeated migrant invasions, of which the latest is easily the least-sworded, trillions of pounds lost in pointless foreign wars, civil upheaval, godawful relationship decisions, and they’ve lost the Crown Jewels at least twice.
Unfortunately the fact that the Royal Family is now mostly ornamental has not improved the situation. For while it is their government that raises and spends taxes, an unknown chunk of it is snaffled by the Windsors without you knowing. Andrew’s home of Royal Lodge could be making millions for us every year if let out at a commercial rent, and I think we all know that Russia and China would pay over those odds. Andrew, therefore, is subsidised by us, and will be until the end of his days, unless he rents a semi in Dorking and is left to get on with it.
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The Freedom of Information request which uncovered the details of Andrew’s lease was answered with such speed the reporter in question professed amazement: even more so, as the details were unredacted. If Fleet Street has an ounce of nasal capacity left its denizens will have asked the Crown Estate to provide the same information for William, Edward, Anne, and a host of hangers-on. Its FOI team are probably now trying to find a solid legal reason why they could reveal what Not My Handsy Andy’s rent was, but don’t have to do the same for the as-yet untarnished heir to the throne.
But you can bet your last barnacle that none of them are paying market rates, for the simple reason that only two Royals have the means to support themselves in the manner to which they are accustomed. Charles was the first Royal to qualify as a billionaire, and with his eldest son shares two Duchies with rents, businesses, and staff that give them a sizeable chunk of the nation’s gross domestic product. They just don’t pay much tax on it – no corporation tax, no capital gains, nor even the reduced rate of inheritance tax levied on farmers.
Prince William voluntarily pays income tax on profits of the Duchy of Cornwall, but only after he’s taken millions in expenses to pay for his official duties, and he won’t tell anyone how much he pays. We’ve no idea how Edward puts food on the table, or how Anne pays the leccy bill on her Gloucestershire pile, but it’s worth pointing out that the Royal whose finances are most clearly-defined, above-board and a matter of public record is Prince Harry, who managed to leave and be exiled at the same time.
Every year the Royal Household publishes what it claims are accounts, revealing the total income from the Sovereign Grant and the total expenditure on helicopters, Bentleys, and foreign visits. The last batch shows income rising to £132m this year, and an overall ‘cost’ of 77p per head of the population. In return, we get to watch the 1,000-year reality show of Royal revelations, from racist gaffes to dodgy mates.
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But the accounts never mention rents, paid or unpaid. They don’t discuss the cost of Royal security, which is spread across multiple police forces and ultimately funded by the council taxpayers unfortunate enough to live within 50 miles of someone who refuses to heed advice about who they hang out with. They also don’t shed light on how much money the government would make if William had just one house, rather than three or four, or if Camilla took the train as often as the last Queen did. Nor does it explain why Fergie, or distant great-nephews of the late monarch, should be getting fed and watered, or why the staff that do so are paid minimum wage by one of the richest men in England.
Parliament is, gently, reverently, while fully understanding the trials and tribulations the King goes under for our sakes, suggesting that maybe it might like to debate some of this, if no-one minds too much. But only Andrew, not the rest of them. Only rental arrangements, not the rest of it. For if there is one thing our Parliament of the people has guaranteed the Royals, it is a complete lack of anything too sharp.
The Royal Household, and its impact on government, is exempt from the Freedom of Information Act. Cabinet papers are shared with Prince William, who may lobby ministers, but what he says is totally secret. No independent accountant is allowed to review the Royal finances, judge if it is value for money, nor even to go to the village square and laugh loudly about the claim it costs only 77p a head. Royal papers are withheld from the National Archives, and their publication is at the whim of the monarch of the day, not the 30-year rule as with everything else.
If Parliament ever used the teeth that Oliver Cromwell gave it, it would change all that. Perhaps more importantly, it would insist that all working Royals were required to abide by the 7 principles of public life to which millions of British citizens are subject – although what Charles and co would make of selflessness, integrity, accountability and the rest, heaven only knows. It would certainly put a stop to a lot of knighthoods, holidays, and media spin.
All the Royal secrecy has robbed the public purse, and enabled every scandal. Perhaps the solution is to formalise the messy arrangement. We keep funding them, so long as they keep doing what they do best: and livestream Royal life, 24-7, via subscription. We’d rake it in, the Royals could keep a percentage, and tourism would triple overnight. As anyone asked about a constitutional monarchy would say, The Only Way Is Windsor.
