As imagined by Brian Beacom

LOOK, I appreciate you calling and worrying about me, given that Granny has laid down the rules about me not wearing the old uniform again – and no jokes please about the Third Reich costumes, that was yonks ago. But seriously, I’m feeling great.

I love having my own voice. And I’ve got a wonderful wife to tell me what I’m allowed to say.

I almost feel Scottish, in fact. Apart from the ginger connection, I’m also embracing a real sense of independence. That’s thanks to Megs. She convinced me we had to get out of the UK. We were simply never out of the papers. It was simply ripping one’s knitting.

Now, we’re never out of the world’s papers – but at least we get to use our own shots. Incidentally, did you love the Notting Hill-type garden pics, with me looking all Hugh Grant naïve and Megs being a bit Julia, showing off the new bump, which will guarantee whacking amounts of publicity.

And the Netflix deal doesn’t mean we surrender privacy. It’s the opposite, in fact. Megs loves to get out there, hear people’s stories. Not my Uncle Andrew’s sort of stories. Or her dad’s. Tin ear there.

As for the Oprah TV event on March 7, that will be liberating, says Megs. Oprah can ask us anything she likes. Except about why Meghan loves Kate as much as she does re-runs of Suits where she’s wearing the towel. But we’ll talk for ever about Africa. And Invictus. And racial injustice.

That’s another reason to leave England behind. If you wish to escape racial conflict, Los Angeles is the place to be. It’s so equal here. When we moved to Beverly Hills I noticed it doesn’t matter if you drive a Roller or just a mid-range Mercedes – no one bats an eyelid. It’s the same here in Montecito. Life is so smooth. Like Judy Murray’s new neck.

Do I miss London? I miss the nightclubs. I miss the fancy dress parties and the naked billiards with the lads. I miss my brother, but then I haven’t really missed him since he went all Kingy on me, after Megs and Kate got a little bit catfighty.

I miss the polo, the Sloanies looking to bag their own prince. But I don’t miss the Palace arguments. At times it made the Handforth Parish Council’s Planning Meetings seem like a Dalai Lama’s tea party. And sure, my Uncle Andrew has caused the United Kingdom more problems than the Luftwaffe and Nicola Sturgeon put together.

So don’t worry. We’re so happy to be free of the royal shackles. But in a couple of years we’ll be back to shackle up again and reconnect with the Firm. Once the media realise I’m just a slightly goofy, Ron Howard-lookalike with a pushy actress wife then I’ll be facing trips to the Montecito Job Centre looking for work as a helicopter pilot and Megs will be back on daytime soap.

But let’s get that Netflix $150m spent first.