Their performances, in which both actresses deploy a contorted Sloane speak so outrageous it practically requires subtitles, are genius: every word so absolutely wrong, and yet, so absolutely right.
Yes, I understand that you, dear readers, may not think of this branch of the family often (or at all), but I don’t believe there’s any going back once you’ve seen Eugenie and her sister Beatrice as they’re played here, by Celeste Dring and Ellie White respectively. And in any case, this hardly worries Eugenie: she believes a pine cone may be eaten like an apple. Princess Eugenie’s husband doesn’t know what a brand ambassador is – but then, nor do I. (To be accurate, he actually cries “sha-a-a-a-wts!” because he is both posh and a bit thick.) Poor Jack. “Shots!” cries Jack Brooksbank (Tom Stourton), in this special, opening his coat to reveal a long row of tiny glasses attached to a belt like ammunition. The Windsors’ exaggerated but well-ordered lies reveal truths The Crown must at all costs avoid: truths to do with stupidity and venality, and also with the fact the Royal Family now counts (checks notes) a former tequila brand ambassador among its number. But of the two shows, it’s Bert Tyler-Moore and the late George Jeffrie’s wild satire that feels the more painfully accurate, its uncanny veracity ringing out like the gong at Balmoral at dinner time. Judi Dench and others may worry we receive Peter Morgan’s The Crown as the gospel truth (which it definitely isn’t). (I know: anti-climactic, but do feel free to open that box of Duchy Originals shortbread as well.) Not that The Windsors is no good.
For the King’s big day is upon us, and we must mark it, in this case with The Windsors Coronation Special. Please, charge your glasses, whether with a large Corgi Cosmopolitan or a small Sussex Spritz, I do not care.
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