Poor old Arthur. Some people just don't realise they're being patronised

Is William going out with Kate? Is he two-timing her with Jecca? Will either girl one day become a princess? The nation, apparently, is convulsed with such questions. We are desperate, allegedly, to know the dating habits of an otherwise unremarkable 21-year-old student because he will one day be our king.

And thanks to The Sun, our curiosity has been satisfied. The paper published a photograph of Prince William with a college friend, Kate Middleton, this week and claimed, for no particular reason it felt able to report, that the two of them were boyfriend and girlfriend. In response to The Sun's flouting of an agreement which protects William from press intrusion until he has finished his studies, the newspaper has been banned from taking part in photocalls featuring the two princes, until further notice.

Considering the frenzy of salacious gossip that the story has set off, I think the Royal Family is exercising restraint here. The Sun, though, sees the furore as an opportunity for martyrdom. It has wheeled out its royal mascot Arthur Edwards, the gentleman who did the Windsors the great favour of taking a picture of Lady Diana in a skirt she didn't know he could see through. Mr Edwards ought to know what can come of putting romantic young people under too much scrutiny. Instead he says of his mild little punishment: "I'm very disappointed. It's childish."

What's childish? Chasing a kid around, and hassling every young woman in his life for details of their "relationship" is childish. Actually, having to have "special" families who are princes and kings in order to claim national "identity" is childish. And believing in your own publicity as some sort of grinning, fawning, national talisman, then going into a huff when your pretend chums in the Royal Family supposedly snub you is also childish.

The Sun has claimed in the past that its veteran royal reporter, Mr Edwards, is "the spirit of the paper". This is correct. If one person embodies the queasy mix of intrusion, hypocrisy, contempt, deference, and parasitical interdependence that characterises the relationship between the press and the royal family, then it is he.

Projected as some sort of dear friend to the family, Mr Edwards is constantly being cited as a man on intimate, cosy terms with the royals. Actually, though, he's simply patronised by them (and by his own paper), like some sort of comic expression of old-fashioned, touch-your-cap, know-your-place social snobbery.

He was presented with an MBE recently, as a Jubilee PR exercise. Prior to the presentation of his gong, Mr Edwards confided to the nation that though he must have talked to the Queen on "over a dozen occasions" he was still nervous. Imagine feeling flattered that someone you saw several times a week for 27 years had acknowledged your existence on "over a dozen occasions".

When the historic moment came, the Queen displayed her "great sense of humour" by saying, "I don't know why I'm giving this to you." Of course, the Queen was simply stating a fact, secure in the knowledge that Mr Edwards, his paper and its readership would let her get away with such casual, undisguised contempt by presenting it in the most flattering possible light. In return for his gong, he was supposed to carry on doing that. But he just didn't get it.

¿ Some Edwards scalps have been thin indeed. "Credited" with taking the first picture of Charles's tonsure, in 1976, this week he made the same claim of his son. Mr Edwards has also revealed that when complimented on his haircut, Prince Harry retorted: "At least I've still got more than you." A similar comment to Diana in 1990 got the reply: "At least I've got some hair." Sad examples of genetic heritage, reported formerly as great journalistic scoops and latterly as classics of witty badinage.

Lifestyle makeover

There has been much unseemly schadenfreude over the fall of Martha Stewart, the US lifestyle guru who was convicted last month on charges related to insider dealing. Indeed, I have no objection myself to the relentless pursuit of greedy, wealthy lawbreakers.

But I am troubled over the idea that Ms Stewart is reported to be heading for a jail sentence. What could be gained from sending someone of her gifts to a penitentiary when they clearly could both pay a large fine and contribute extremely useful community service?

Or maybe that is the cunning plan of the criminal justice system - to offer Ms Stewart the ultimate lifestyle challenge. In some prisons the restrictions on how a cell can be decorated are so stringent that glue or sticky tape of any kind is banned. Inmates therefore resort to such materials as toothpaste and semen in order to adorn their prison walls.

It would be nice if Ms Stewart could spend her jug coming up with rather more elegant alternatives to such practices. Instructions on how to make a prison coffee table, in order to display the first prison coffee table book, would be both practical and humane.

This strange affair proves the need for whistleblowers

Is Steve Moxon an idiot, a genius, or a stalking horse? Or merely the beneficiary of an amazing coincidence? The 48-year-old civil servant's name will be forever cherished in the annals of whistleblowerdom. After all, it was his initial revelation which eventually resulted in the resignation of an important minister.

But actually, he managed to reveal nothing that, taken by itself, was damaging to Beverley Hughes at all. It was not until James Cameron, the British consul in Bucharest, came along, that the genuine trouble began. Disastrously, the very same office that decided to fast-track applications without checking them had been targeted by organised criminals in other eastern European countries in a scam that for some reason Ms Hughes had not acted to stop.

Would Mr Cameron have made his allegations if Mr Moxon had not made his? Did Mr Moxon have a hunch that more was up in the Sheffield offices than he could put his finger on? It is hard to tell. But whatever the explanation, it remains astonishing that it took a petty revelation to flush out this other devastating one.

Both whistleblowers have been suspended. But both will be able to keep their jobs if their actions can be justified under the Public Interest Disclosure Act. Mr Cameron should certainly remain in his post, since he revealed appalling abuses that he had previously reported to the home office.

Mr Moxon appears to have been an unwitting catalyst in this process. But if his own revelations prompted Mr Cameron's, then he too should keep his job. One thing that has been proved by this strange, outrageous affair is that our whistleblowers must be cultivated as much as they possibly can be.