His finest hour came in 1982 when he returned, coated in glory, from Falklands War duty with a rose between his teeth. Andymania was rife and teenagers were reported to swoon in his presence. But alas from then on it was all downhill – his service record was sufficient to promise a successful career as a naval officer, but while on secondment to the Ministry of Defence he allegedly fell foul of the admirals, towering figures who weren’t prepared to put up with his high-handed manner.
To them he was a sailor, not a prince – and if he couldn’t conform to accepted standards of behaviour there was no place for him in the service.
His life is a train wreck.
