Brigadier ( the nut job )and Ernie his new bro.

If the allegations against Thomas Markle Snr. prove true, charges should be laid and the full force of the law applied. If false, a full retraction and apology are in order. Should Thomas Markle Jnr. be culpable, the same standard must apply. Nobody deserves immunity or special treatment. The allegations against her father are deeply disturbing, but they do not magically erase Meghan Markle’s own history of dishonesty, contradictions and conduct many consider cruel. One does not cancel out the other. The media and Sussex Squad would do well to grasp the elementary distinction between two entirely separate issues. Compassion for a potential victim does not require the suspension of scrutiny elsewhere, nor does it confer retrospective sainthood upon anyone. If Meghan has known about these alleged crimes for years and deliberately remained silent, serious questions must be asked about her responsibility. As a survivor of childhood sexual abuse, I find the prospect of someone possessing such knowledge yet failing to act to protect potentially vulnerable children utterly abhorrent. Whether that silence constitutes a criminal offence is for the law to determine. Morally, however, the implications are profoundly disturbing. Childhood sexual abuse is not a public relations inconvenience, a weapon to be kept in reserve or a story to be dusted off when expedient. It is a devastating violation whose scars can endure for a lifetime, affecting almost every aspect of a survivor’s existence. If you possess credible information that a child may be at risk, the responsibility to act must transcend personal grievances, reputation and self-interest. A child’s welfare must come first. Always. Not when convenient, not when public sympathy beckons, and certainly not when the revelation serves one’s own narrative. If Meghan has possessed this information for years, the questions are simple. What did she know, when did she know it, and what did she do to protect those potentially at risk? To remain silent whilst children may be vulnerable, only to invoke such horrors when they serve one’s own purposes, would represent a staggering failure of moral responsibility. Treating a matter this grave as another opportunity to occupy the moral high ground is repugnant. Child abuse is not a stage upon which to perform victimhood. A child’s suffering is not a prop, their safety is not a bargaining chip, and their trauma does not exist to furnish anyone with a more compelling personal narrative. If these allegations are true, let there be justice. If false, let there be accountability for the damage done. And if anyone knowingly allowed children to remain at risk when they could have raised the alarm, let that conduct be examined with the seriousness it deserves. I speak as a survivor. The consequences of childhood sexual abuse do not disappear when the world stops talking about them. That is precisely why this matter demands the utmost seriousness, not exploitation for personal advantage. Children deserve protection, not silence. Advocates, not spectators. Adults prepared to do what is right, however inconvenient or personally costly. Anything less is an appalling betrayal of those who most desperately need protecting.

A heartfelt shout-out to those of us who can still remember the landline number of the house we lived in as children, yet require three attempts and a mild existential crisis to remember a password we invented yesterday. You are my people. 🎩💙

There are some people who become famous. There are some who become legends. And then, very occasionally, there is someone who becomes part of the fabric of people’s lives. Dolly Parton was one of those rare souls. Born amongst the mountains of Tennessee, she somehow became beloved far beyond them. USA claimed her, quite rightly, as one of its own, but Dolly belonged to the world. From Tennessee to London, from Nashville to Sydney, from the smallest country town to the grandest city, people knew her songs, her smile, her humour and that extraordinary voice. And somehow, they felt they knew her. Dolly had a generosity of spirit that seemed almost old-fashioned. She gave without fuss, encouraged without condescension and used her extraordinary success to lift others rather than merely elevate herself. Her Imagination Library alone put books into the hands of countless children, but her greatest gift was perhaps less tangible. She made people feel that goodness was still worth something. She carried her faith in God throughout her life, not as a performance, but as something deeply woven into who she was. She spoke of heaven without fear and of those she loved with the quiet certainty that love does not simply cease because a heartbeat does. And what a woman she was. There was steel beneath those rhinestones. Dolly possessed an almost formidable intestinal fortitude. She came from poverty, faced rejection, endured criticism, broke barriers and built an extraordinary life on talent, determination, wit and an almost indecent amount of hard work. She never needed to pretend to be tough. She simply was. And beneath all the glitter, the wigs, the sequins and the laughter was a woman who understood the profound value of loyalty. Her love for Carl was one of those rare private things in an increasingly public world. Nearly six decades of marriage, through fame, fortune and all the peculiarities that accompany both, she remained devoted to the man she chose long before the world knew her name. That, too, was Dolly. A powerful woman who never needed to diminish anyone else in order to demonstrate her own strength. A lady who never mistook elegance for pomposity. A star who somehow remained gloriously human. A woman who could walk into a room covered in glitter and still make the person standing quietly in the corner feel seen. And perhaps that is why the world feels so strangely empty today. We haven’t merely lost a singer. We have lost a storyteller. A songwriter. A philanthropist. A businesswoman. A woman of faith. A devoted wife. A force of nature. An icon. And, above all, a thoroughly decent human being. Her songs will endure, of course. They have already become part of the soundtrack of generations. But music was only one part of what Dolly gave us. She gave us laughter. She gave us courage. She gave us kindness. She gave us hope. She reminded us that you could be enormously successful without becoming cold, enormously wealthy without becoming selfish and enormously famous without believing yourself better than anyone else. She spread an astonishing amount of love during her lifetime. And now the world must learn to live without the woman who spread it. I hope, wherever she is tonight, there is music. I hope there are angels. I hope there is a little Tennessee sunshine. And I hope, with all my heart, that Carl was there to meet her. Because after a lifetime of making the world smile, Dolly Parton deserves to be welcomed home with the greatest ovation heaven can possibly muster. Rest peacefully, Dolly. You were never merely America’s sweetheart. You were loved around the world. You were never merely a country music legend. You were an icon. You were never merely a famous woman. You were a lady. And you were never merely a star. You were light. Never forgotten. Never replaced. Forever loved. Thank you, Dolly, for leaving the world rather brighter than you found it. May God bless you, and keep you.