Can I be frank? I can’t get enough of the Middletons. I am mad for them. Not just the Duchess of Cambridge, heroically staying awake throughout a cruelly protracted tour of Ottowa (you try it). Not just because of the fact that if you type the words ‘Pippa Middleton’ into Google, it offers you a remarkably narrow range of options from ‘underwear’ to ‘bottom’. Not just because of the Mail Online’s laudable efforts to get Prince Harry and Pippa paired off (before the advent of posh knicker-model ‘Flee’ Brudenell-Bruce).
It is because the Middletons represent something we have not seen in proximity to the royal family since — well, perhaps ever. This quality can’t be called ordinariness, for the Middletons are far from ordinary. You can’t even really call it middle-classness. The Middletons seem beyond such dilapidated terms. They are their own class: Upper Middleton. This meta-class has found an answering echo in the younger members of the House of Windsor.
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