by David Stubbs
PS On a lighter note, when I heard The Beatles might be splitting up, my first reaction was ‘Oh, no!’ – think about it!
Johnny Rotten
Virgin Records
London
England
17 May 1977
Dear Mr Rotten
Senior palace officials advise me not to make contact with you in this way but I have done so nonetheless and so I hope I might appeal to what I believe to be the vestige of decency you have in you and keep this correspondence between ourselves. I think if the Royals are to modernise, we must not be ‘aloof’ but keep ‘channels of communication’ open between oneself and ‘street-fighting toughs’ like you.
I realise you’re an ‘angry young man’ – I get angry myself sometimes, so I know exactly how you feel – but I understand you plan to release your punk disc ‘God Save The Queen’ to coincide with my mother’s Jubilee celebrations. Regretfully, in a democracy I cannot ask you to suppress your free speech. Might I then suggest that instead of attacking my mother on this, her most special occasion, that I place myself in her stead? Write a punk song about me instead, if you really must get things off your chest. I can take the brickbats. It might run as follows:
God bless the Prince
Let’s make him into mince
He’s got stupid stick-out ears
Gets his kicks shooting deers.
If that last line doesn’t work, my brother Prince Andrew, whom I took into my confidence, suggests, ‘His friends are all queers’. I think he himself is going through a ‘punk rock’ phase – that is a revolting slander and it appalls me to think this is the sort of thing my brother obviously believes you might write and if that’s what it takes to ‘seal the deal’, I will fall on that particular sword but how could you be thought to think such a thing?
Yours, in secret
HRH The Prince of Wales
The Three Degrees
c/o Motown Records
Los Angeles
California
United States of America
15 November 1978
A bit of ‘guesswork’ on my part, sending this to the Tamla Motown address. It may well not be where you make your records at all, but I’m sure Diana Ross, if she discovers this letter the way she legendarily discovered Michael Jackson, will be kind enough to pass it on.
I must admit I hesitate to put pen to paper – to sully these sheets, as it were – but following your truly extraordinary performance at my 30th birthday party, I felt I had to convey to you the depths of feeling you stirred in me. I’m not a music ‘critic’ so I can’t put my finger on it – whether it’s the fact that there are three of you ladies, the way you seem to heat up a room with your presence, or those terrific rhythms which seem to affect one somewhere below the head and above the knees, you are a credit both to your gender and to the ‘soul’ community in general.
I just wish there was some way we could put our heads together on one of my pet projects: what are your views on the Preservation of the Royal Yacht, the National Fruit Collection, bio-degradable Wellington boots? Perhaps you might get involved in all three between you, one Degree per project. Take your pick, ladies!
Yours, in a sort of canine devotion
HRH The Prince of Wales
The Village People
New York
USA
6 May 1979
You may remember that I wrote to you before following the success of your hit disc, ‘YMCA’. I remember saying to you that while discotheque was, and still isn’t, my sort of thing, you clearly had a knack of combining exhortation with entertainment, which almost certainly accounted for your huge success among young people. I advised you, you’ll recall, to target your songwriting skills towards the Armed Services, who are always short of new recruits, and I was immensely gratified when you took up my suggestion with your ‘follow-up’ song, ‘In The Navy’, which was as much of a success as its predecessor.
I hope you don’t mind my scratching my chin a bit doubtfully, but if I might venture a criticism, it is that the accompanying promotional film may have given a misapprehension of ‘life at sea’ for the fresh cadet. For a start when piped aboard you are not greeted by men in hard hats, police caps or Red Indian headdresses. There is no unsupervised semaphore disco dancing on deck. Rather, one must first undergo early morning drill from a gunnery instructor, acquaint oneself with the rudiments of Morse code and learn how to navigate picket boats into pontoons. None of this features in your film and it is, I regret to say, the poorer for it. An opportunity missed, but we can move forward together and learn from our mistakes.
Yours, man to man
HRH The Prince of Wales
Stevie Wonder
c/o Motown Records
Los Angeles
California
18 August 1979
Dear Mr Wonder
How does it work when you get correspondence? Do your people translate it into Braille? (I’m afraid none of my people have Braille.) Or does someone read it out loud to you? This concerns me as there will be a temptation, this being a letter from me, for whoever reads it to do so in a ‘Charles voice’, which can end up sounding inadvertently comical.
Well, that can’t be helped. I was writing to congratulate you on your latest album, Journey Through The Secret Life Of The Plants. A lot of the so-called, self-styled ‘critics’ have scratched their heads at this remarkable ‘double gatefold album’ and even wondered aloud if you were under the influence of certain substances when you wrote it. However, you, like me, have vision (I say, I’m awfully sorry, that didn’t come out at all right but you know what I mean). I confidently predict The Secret Life Of The Plants will be remembered long after all your other works, such as Songs In The Key Of Life, have been forgotten. I thank you for this work – and, may I say, the plants thank you also.
Yours, in horticultural appreciation
HRH The Prince of Wales
Adam Ant
c/o CBS Records
London
England
17 September 1981
Dear Mr Ant
It’s been hard to avoid your song, ‘Prince Charming’, which currently sits at Number One in the hit parade. I regret to say that whenever my brothers Edward or Andrew see me in the corridor, they strike up with a low, jeering chant of ‘Prince Charlie, Prince Charlie’, based on the tune to your disc – I suppose they think it’s funny.
May I correct you, however, on one specific point? In your lyrics, you say, ‘Ridicule, ridicule is nothing to be scared of’. I can assure you, from my experiences at Gordonstoun, that it very much is. Any chance you could amend the offending words before next week’s edition of Top of the Pops?
Yours, constructively
HRH The Prince of Wales
Phil Collins
Virgin Records UK
London
England
16 October 1981
Dear Mr Collins
I wonder if you could settle a bet between my father and me? I insist the words to your song are, ‘I can feel it coming in the air tonight’. He contends the last bit goes ‘Coming in the heir tonight’. Which of us is right? He is being rather ‘leery’ about it and it’s upsetting my wife.
Yours, urgently
HRH The Prince of Wales
‘Prince’
Paisley Park Studios
Minneapolis
United States of America
4 April 1987
Dear ‘Prince’
As you are no doubt aware, 1987 marks the 35th anniversary of my mother’s accession to the British throne. To mark the occasion, I struck on the idea of a pop concert to take place at Buckingham Palace – but a concert with a difference. My wheeze was to give the thing a royal ‘theme’, as reflected in the selection of artists.
And so, with the help of one of my staff (and no help, I should add, from my wife, who mistrusts my instincts in these matters – I’ll show her!), I came up with a shortlist. It comprises:<
br />
Prince (yourself)
Princess (the singer of ‘Say I’m Your Number One’ by the songwriting firm of Stock Aitken Waterman)
Queen
King (you know their disc, ‘Love And Pride’, I take it?)
What I thought was that we might arrange the sequence of turns according to Royal hierarchy. However, my staff have already ‘put out feelers’ to Princess, whose people have expressed misgivings about her appearing bottom of the bill. Apparently, it’s considered ‘demeaning’ in showbiz ‘circles’. So, I wondered if you would open instead? My governess taught me that a little gentleman should always accede to a lady’s wishes (not that I’m saying you are little).
So, what I thought is that you could kick things off with a half-hour set commencing about 8.15pm British time, followed by Princess, with Queen penultimately taking the stage and finally, and fittingly, King topping the bill. If that sounds amenable, do please have your people contact mine. No fee – all monies to The Prince’s Trust – but lashings of tea and unlimited Battenberg cake.
Yours
HRH (The actual) Prince of Wales
Sinéad O’Connor
Chrysalis Records
London
England
12 February 1990
Dear Miss O’Connor
Before congratulating you on your latest hit single, one thing I must first establish – your hair, or rather lack of it. This is not due to some illness I have not been made aware of? I thought I’d ask straight off so as not to ‘put my foot in it’.
Anyway, I must say, this song of yours, ‘Nothing Compares 2 U’ – I happened to catch it on the television set and was most struck by your performance to camera. You have the knack of making a fellow who had no part in whatever it was that caused your unhappiness to nonetheless feel a bit of a ‘heel’. I wanted to ask, though – are those tears real, or do you simply have the ability to ‘turn on the waterworks’ at will? Is that something you ladies can do? It would be most useful to know, the next time my own wife’s eyes turn moist after some little contretemps so I can satisfy myself that she is in fact ‘putting it on’.
Incidentally, I find myself in the curious situation of being ‘in’ with the group Status Quo. If you wish, I could arrange for you to support them on one of their upcoming tours – it would be great exposure for an ‘up and coming’ artist.
Yours, in assistance
HRH The Prince of Wales
Liam Gallagher
Oasis
Manchester
England
16 August 1996
Dear Mr Gallagher
Actually, even as I write, I’m not quite sure if you’re the Gallagher brother I wish to be addressing. I would check with a member of my staff, but they’re already much too hard pressed with other important work to be distracted by frivolities such as this. If you are the wrong brother, I’m sure you’ll get wind during the course of this letter and be good enough to pass it on to the brother I am clearly talking to. One hesitates to talk of monkeys and organ grinders … Well, you know my meaning.
I’d like to extend my warmest felicitations on your fine compositions, ‘Wonderwall’ and the one with ‘Champagne’ in the title. I don’t suppose you necessarily relish the Royal seal of approval (as a dedicated punk rocker, you’d probably spit in my face or something!), which is why I’m corresponding from a safe distance.
The reason I congratulate you is this. It has in the past been the complaint of many a father and, indeed, husband, on being made to sit through Top of the Pops that firstly, what they play isn’t music, it’s just noise, and secondly, that you can’t tell the girls from the boys. My father, Prince Philip, made the same complaint when looking in on Anne and me watching the same programme in the 1960s and I found myself repeating the same complaint in the 1980s. However, here we are in the 1990s. I watch you and I can tell it’s just good old-fashioned music, like the good old days. And I can very much tell who are the boys and who are the girls: you’re all boys. This, I feel, is progress and you should be proud of yourselves. Keep it up!
Yours, pleasingly unconfused
HRH The Prince of Wales
The Spice Girls
c/o Virgin Records
London
England
3 November 1997
Dear Spice Girls
I must admit, in the heat of our encounter I was rather flustered and didn’t quite catch which of you was which, though ‘Ginger Spice’ was unmistakable! I’m writing to commend you for really putting Britain on the map – it’s a long time since Britannia was considered ‘cool’ and I expect I’m in some way to blame for that, though I strive daily to attain that condition of tepidity so oddly valued by today’s young people. (What do you think it is about me – the kilts, the concern?)
And now, a delicate matter: amid the cameras and jostling I was all too keenly aware of kisses being planted on my cheeks and even of my hindquarters being pinched (by Ginger and, I believe, Black Spice? I’m sorry – I’m not au fait with your ‘soubriquets’). All of this was of course most improper, if somewhat flattering, and I certainly felt anything but cool in the midst of it all, particularly under the collar!
But my serious point is this: certain sweet nothings, I recall, were whispered in my ear. If they were meant in earnest, I must at once nip in the bud any cherished hopes on the part of any of you ladies, lovely as you are, of a liaison. Had I been many years younger, my late Uncle Dickie might have encouraged me to ‘horse around’ with the lovely likes of yourselves prior to any serious betrothal but I am an older man, with a serious role to play in the administration of our Kingdom, and cannot afford to have that undermined by an ill-judged choice of bride. Spirituality and Gravitas, not Sporty, not Baby, must be my watchwords.
Yours respectfully, but alas, also distantly
HRH The Prince of Wales (Now Spoken For)
Liam Gallagher
Oasis
Manchester
England
6 January 1998
Dear Mr Gallagher
You know, having caught a ‘five-star’ review in a magazine called Q, which one of my staff left lying around, I decided to give your latest long-playing disc a play. I must confess, even to my conservative ears it sounded as if you were rather ‘playing it safe’.
Have you ever listened to the group Status Quo? Even though their recordings essentially sound the same, they have a knack of making each new disc ever so slightly different from the last. Could you not, perhaps, take a leaf out of their book?
Yours, constructively
HRH The Prince of Wales
Robbie Williams
c/o EMI Records
London
England
6 January 2003
Dear Mr Williams
I’m looking to really ‘pep up’ my latest Prince’s Trust line-up. In the past, I’ve had Phil Collins (who is always game and I suppose I shall keep him on), but who nowadays reminds of some faithful but elderly beater struggling to keep up, thrashing weakly through the grass long after the grouse have rocketed.
What I’m looking for is some ‘fresh meat’ or ‘blood’. I need a younger act, who in their original use of beat rhythms and lyrics makes the young feel invigorated and refreshed, reminds us that we live in challenging, but optimistic times and that tomorrow belongs to our youth. In other words, someone who really fires us up the way The Beatles once did, once upon a time.
It’s a shame there’s no one around like that presently, don’t you feel? But the search goes on – meanwhile, until I track down such a ‘turn’, I wonder if you yourself would care to be on ‘stand-by’?
Yours, and so forth
HRH The Prince of Wales
Sir Elton John
c/o Watford Football Club
London
England
12 January 2006
Dear Sir Elton
Congratulations on your betrothal or should I say ‘partne
rship’. I must admit, it was quite a personal shock when it came out several years ago that you were a homosexual after songs like ‘Crocodile Rock’ and ‘Saturday Night’s Alright for Fighting’ and albums such as Captain Fantastic And The Brown Dirt Cowboy, but I am quite accepting of it all now. Of course, I have nothing within reason against homosexuals. Many of my grandmother’s staff, although not similarly persuaded did know, or know of, many men who were. I know your people have been through very difficult times in recent years despite the remarkable, almost excessive cheerfulness you collectively maintain.
Just a matter of protocol: this upcoming event at Highgrove to which you and your ‘plus one’ are cordially invited, how should you be announced? I was thinking, ‘Your Royal Highness, Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen, Mr and Mr Elton John’. Is that right? It is important to get these things correct, I feel.
Yours, in acceptance
HRH The Prince of Wales
Madonna/Celine Dion
c/o MTV
Los Angeles
California
United States of America
20 April 2008
Dear Misses Madonna/Dion
I trust you don’t mind my addressing you jointly: it seemed more practical and would convey that I am speaking to the both of you with one voice, not addressing either of you as I wouldn’t the other. This concerns a recent report by an ancestry ‘website’ that both you, Ms Ciccone and you, Ms Dion, may well be related to me via my wife, the Duchess of Cornwall. It seems there is a common, though distant lineage dating back to one Zacharie Cloutier, a French carpenter who settled in Canada in the seventeenth century.