Prince Andrew turned his father’s memorial service into another PR blunder

The service was one of those confused and confusing moments where the institution of the monarchy, its state role and its frankly political aspects collided with deeply personal parts of family life

The Palace has never got the public/private balance right, because ultimately, it is impossible to do so (POOL/AFP via Getty Images)

Prince Andrew, then. Attending what he might describe as a “perfectly straightforward” memorial service for his late father, he somehow managed to steal the show, and in the worst possible way.

Depending on which version of palatial spin you believe, the Duke of York found himself playing such a prominent role in the proceedings for one or more of at least three reasons. First was the notion that he lives round there so it was easiest for him to go with his mother in the limo and help her along. A matter of convenience, then, was an early line from the Palace, which probably understates the ability of an alternative royal to the troubled Andrew to scoot up the M4 with a police escort.

Second, and not incompatible with the first, the Queen remains extremely fond of Andrew, routinely described as her favourite, and wishes to give a very strong signal his rehabilitation is underway, now that nasty business in the courts is over and done with.

Third, and again not incompatible, is that Prince Charles and Prince William didn’t mind him turning up and all that, but then the old sod deliberately barged past the assorted posh persons at the Abbey and virtually kidnapped his mum and deposited her on her gilded perch. Apparently, the Dean of Westminster was aghast. Heavens above.

Whichever is true, and, as I say, there may well be truth in all of them, it’s another PR blunder, and a particularly ghastly one. It’s important here to take reason and merit out of the argument. The Duke of York, legally speaking, has done nothing “wrong” now that the suit brought by Victoria Giuffre has been settled. Normally, even a bad ‘un is allowed to attend such an event for a close family member – it is almost a human right. The Queen can choose who she wishes to be at her side at such an emotional moment.

All very true, and all very human. But the “optics”, as media folk call them, are just dreadful. The service was one of those confused and confusing moments where the institution of the monarchy, its state role and its frankly political aspects collided with deeply personal aspects of family life.

In truth, it has happened many times before, not least in the painful and protracted collapse of Charles’ marriage to Diana, and then in the aftermath of her death in 1997. The family wanted to protect itself, for obvious reasons, and yearned for privacy; the public demanded something different. After the public mood turned against the family not showing themselves in London to demonstrate their grief over Diana, Tony Blair gave the monarchy the great service of some wise counsel at just the right moment. Would Boris Johnson be willing or able to do the same now?

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The Palace has never got the public/private balance right, because ultimately, it is impossible to do so. However, there are better and worse ways of dealing with every potential PR disaster and plainly, whoever – individually or collectively – is responsible for this arm of the monarchy isn’t doing it very well.

Other recent incidents that spring to mind include the Cambridges’ tour of the Caribbean, an informal goodwill visit which somehow ended up resembling an imperial Durbar; the way the Palace deceived the press over the Queen’s spell in hospital last year, and indeed their amiable reticence about the health of Prince Philip in his last weeks. That exercise in public relations turned the oft-repeated phrase “in good spirits” into a euphemism for “call a priest”.

Not to worry, though. Every so often an institution gets itself into a bit of a presentational rut, and soon enough, as now, the media spots or creates a “narrative” so that every misstep that might otherwise be overlooked becomes part of a story, and the clamour grows for them to sort it out. It is the natural cycle of things, and eventually someone comes along and gives the necessary advice and makes the necessary decisions.

When the “client” is the Queen herself though, and the principal continuing problem is her stubborn, deluded second son, it is a particularly delicate task.