Nothing sadder than a dodgy bladder and when you’re 90 and the entire world gets to know about it, well it can be embarrassing.
Aye, Phil the Greek has sprung a leak and they rushed him to hospital smartish on Monday pm. No hanging around on a National Heath trolley in a draughty corridor for His Royal Highness.
We’ll never know if it was a lengthy linger on Sunday on the Royal Barge watching the flotilla sail down the Thames in the downpour or somebody, for a royal giggle, spiked his tonic.
More likely, simply an elderly man’s ailment. Anyway, Phil opted out of the St Paul’s Thanksgiving yesterday.
The Queen missed him loads on Monday but there was no shortage of kin to comfort her at the concert and at the Cathedral.
You don’t want to do it in your pants with this complaint, more so when you’re in the public eye. HRH was to be kept, detained, for a few days. Take good care of him, sister, do you hear?
Rumours that the royal bedpans are selling on ebay just aren’t true, by the way. With Phil’s 91st birthday due on Sunday, this column’s flippancy is in dubious taste.
Afterwords . .
Let’s hear it for the bin men. Uplifts on Jubilee Monday were carried out as normal, in Edinburgh’s West End at any rate. Damn good show, chaps. Might we interpret that as two fingers to the monarchy or a Bravo Britannia? That dustman in Union Jack overalls was stretching it a bit, though.