The one that got into the spot of bother over Mrs Simpson, remember? He got busted down from King-to-be to Duke of Windsor and we sent him to the Bahamas. He ended his days living in Paris, in a house now leased by Mohammed Al-Fayed. Another problematic ex-HRH, Princess Diana, visited it on the day of the crash. Faintly creepy, that.
Now Empire-less, the dumping grounds for ex-Royals are rather limited, unless they exile themselves and become dukes for hire in California.
It was much simpler back in the day. Should a Duke of York become an embarrassment, action could be taken and right swiftly, possibly involving a butt of malmsey wine, or a quick beheading when no-one was looking.
Bumping off family members is never a good look, but royals had to do it. I imagine Richard, Duke of York, later Richard III, was reasonably fond of his two little nephews, but they did rather impede his upscaling from duke to king, so, sorry lads, to The Tower with you.
Mind you, didn’t really work out career-wise for Richard. He got battered in battle, dumped under a Leicester car park and then a terrible write-up from Bill Shakespeare.
Permanent disposal was a must. That miffed ex-royal could raise an army and come thundering back to take back titles, lands and thrones.
A favoured tactic was to seek French help. Well, that’s out now. Brexit, y’see. Can’t land an army in Dover today and expect them to clear customs in anything less than, what, six hours? Element of surprise totally lost. Modern Royals would have to shop local for that army. Charles I and his son got the Scots to invade. It didn’t end well.
So, just a heads-up. Should you spot a Royal-looking bloke furtively lurking about asking if you want to join his gang, promising a great day out in London with a bit of looting thrown in, be very wary.