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Rather like Prince Andrew himself, a new show inspired by his travails, Prince Andrew: The Musical, is daft, brash—and a gleeful attempt to exploit public fascination with the royal family. It is timely, as Andrew’s own royal position hangs in the balance: one Christmas royal news story had Andrew fast-tracked to total excommunication, while on Christmas Day he was seen in public with the rest of the family at church.
Unlike Prince Andrew, the musical—airing Thursday night on Channel 4 in the U.K.—is a thing of genius, from the opening credits which are contained within a Pizza Express logo (Andrew famously claimed in his car crash Newsnight interview with Emily Maitlis that he couldn’t have been having sex with Virginia Giuffre because he was at the chain pizza restaurant with his kids) to the final number, “You’ll Always Need an Andrew,” in which he explains to his brother, Charles, why he can’t ever get rid of him: “I was born to be the scapegoat of all our family’s shame/ Members of the great unwashed demand a saint / But perfect is something we ‘aint / You haven’t heard the last of me yet.”
Prince Andrew The Musical is part of the long British tradition of pricking the royal bubble by (badly) imitating them, carried out at Christmas parties across the land at this time of year. Anyone who has ever come across The Windsors, the British comedy series starring the comedy legend Harry Enfield, will be familiar with the genre, the popularity of which can come as a surprise to outsiders who imagine that the British are united in subservient homage to the monarchy.
And anyone who liked The Windsors will love Prince Andrew, The Musical (which pays homage to Enfield by casting him as Tony Blair, who appoints Andrew roving trade ambassador, a position Andrew turns his nose up at until the magic word “expenses” is mentioned.) Another Prime Minister, Margaret Thatcher, is played in a brief cameo by the British drag star Baga Chipz.
Both shows, not coincidentally, were made by Britain’s smallest terrestrial network, Channel 4, which has long been the only bastion of republicanism in the otherwise slavishly pro-monarchy broadcasting landscape. Prince Andrew The Musical Screens on Channel 4 at 9pm on December 29th, as part of its “truth or dare” season.
It was written by and stars the comedian Kieran Hodgson, who has a thriving social media presence doing spot-on rip-offs of scenes from The Crown.
Going from a series of two minute gags to sustaining one joke for an hour is a truly impressive feat, helped by witty lyrics that are stuffed full of absurd rhymes that mirror the absurdity of Andrew’s life and self-delusion. Hodgson is ably assisted in the task by musical director Freddie Tapner’s amped-up arrangements, sparkling with showbiz glitter.
“I can’t believe I said it, that thing about the sweat / Although you’d rather have a prince that’d dry than one who’s soaking wet,” he sings, for example, in the opening number, “I Nailed It.” The title refers to Andrew’s belief that the interview, which would destroy his life, had gone rather well in its immediate aftermath.
Kieran Hodgson in ‘Prince Andrew: The Musical.’
Rob Parfitt/Channel 4
The musical cleverly intersperses real news footage into the fictional performances. We get clips of the BBC Newsnight interview, of course, but Prince Andrew: The Musical also tells the story of Prince Andrew’s entire, gilded life, starting with his birth, when newspapers announced the arrival of an unnamed, “HRH Baby” and going all the way to the present day, taking in his stint as a fighter pilot in the Falklands war, when, it is hard to recall now, Andrew was a genuine hero—and the most desirable royal for a generation. Viewers are unlikely to feel huge sympathy for Andrew. He is, essentially, portrayed as a self-deluded buffoon throughout.
Charles is only a prince in the production, which does not cover the late queen’s death. He is played by Munya Chawawa (this show cleverly makes a virtue of its actors looking nothing like the people they are supposed to be playing). Charles is shown as living in Andrew’s glamorous shadow, interested mainly in vegetables and at one stage lamenting, “Maybe that’s why I’m so dry / All I can do is become a stamp and die.”
Meanwhile, Andrew carouses his way through London society, ultimately alighting on Sarah Ferguson as his bride, who thinks she might be perfect for the job as, “Everyone knows I’ve got subtlety coming out of my amazing arse.”
Ultimately, this is a comedy about the downfall of an entitled, arrogant buffoon, which wisely does not attempt to trivialize his alleged rape of Virginia Giuffre (Giuffre’s name is not mentioned). But Andrew’s involvement with Epstein is the narrative motor of the piece—indeed, in the opening scene, when Andrew is giving his interview to Maitlis, he is seen turning over a picture of Epstein, and Charles at one stage confronts him with an image of Epstein and his accomplice Ghislaine Maxwell at Balmoral.
The show ends with Andrew declaring to Charles that he will “always need an Andrew” and refusing to disappear into obscurity. A board at the end of the performance reminds the audience that he remains eighth in line to the throne, and a counselor of state.
Prince Andrew will, one suspects, never make history.
But he certainly makes for a damn fine farce.
