The morning after the June, 2017 Grenfell Tower inferno, which left the skies above Chelsea where I visited aglow, The Queen rolled up and paid the site, its devastated and displaced occupants a visit. As ever, she was fragile, gracious and commanded one’s attention and respect. She attended with Prince William as their visit was covered uninterrupted on Live local TV.

At the time, I thought it so odd that they came and commiserated, or at least appeared to have, then they were off. It was a, “so sorry for your plight now made worse with this added burden. Oh well, I guess I must be off now, carry on then!” I felt compelled to make a donation, as clearly there was no such largesse coming from the Windsor gang.

The following year just shy of three months after they glorious Spring wedding, the Duke & Duchess of Sussex, accompanied by Doria arrived for a special gathering. It was such a glowing, heartwarming scene as an obviously proud, Prince Harry, looked on as his wife, Meghan, attended the book launch of Together Our Community Cookbook, for which she had written the foreword.

Within a year of her engagement and marriage, Meghan, the American with can-do spirit, had produced a gift for the people of the devastated Grenfell Tower community, one that would be all about giving back and making their struggle less arduous. This single act was so revolutionary; Meghan with her cookbook had demonstrated the true meaning of charity. She showed up with what mattered most, something practical and useful that could be of true assistance to the community. It was obvious at the book launch on September 17, 2018 that the newly minted Duchess of Sussex was beloved by the common folk of the Grenfell community.

A month later, October 2018, Harry and Meghan were off on their inaugural royal tour in the southern hemisphere. The following month, November the Firm, the institution and the royals who were threatened by Meghan and what she represented, went to work. So along came Camilla Tominey of the Telegraph starting the lynching and character assassination of Meghan with the lie that “Meghan made Catherine cry.”

Where was Camilla Tominey, in December 2017, the year prior, declaring that Marie-Christine, “Princess Michael of Kent made Meghan cry.” Of course, she hadn’t and did it really matter? Tough, if the Yank couldn’t take a joke, right? They threw much at Meghan behind the scenes and Meghan adapted, proving herself Tungsten and worth it.

Meghan has master number 11 and for all of us, we are phoenix-like; 11 is an immensely transformative number and it is also about mastery… self-mastery. We are empowered by the colour of red, we are empowered, focussed, strategic and dominant when thusly enrobed. Here, Meghan is being a phoenix, throwing off the mantle of royal drama, politics – family, jealousy, the Firm, the press intrusion. In the proceeding photograph, Meghan wore that stunning red dress to the Mountbatten Music Festival; it was purely strategic.

Here, in interview with the incomparable Oprah Winfrey, Meghan is being most strategic in her choice of clothing. She wears a black Giorgio Armani lotus dress. Ever self-aware, Meghan chose this dress and its colour because she was being deadly focussed and laying down the law in a very intensely vicious fight with the royals beyond her late Majesty, The Queen. She exposed the royals’ racism, vulnerably spoke of her suicidal ideation thanks to the acute racial animus that she experienced within the institution, the family and the media. To make her point, she chose that black Giorgio Armani because the dress bore a lotus flower; the most exquisitely beautiful flower which can only bloom for being mired in a swamp… utter filth – the royals, the institution, the royal rota and British media at large.

Meghan, summer of 2024, our Queen’s got something going on… stuff is cooking… there is that red again. Two marvellous tours in both Nigeria and Columbia but that red dress was putting us on notice… do standby…

Coming on strong, here were Harry & Meghan, The Duke and Duchess of Sussex, executive producers for the most exciting sporting docuseries on Netflix… on any of the streamers. From Louis Devaleix’s deliciously high octane vituperativeness, tempered by his tender love for his beautiful wife, and his mother-in-law who brings out the much-loved son in him. Poroto Cambiaso and Timmy Dutta brought the youth appeal.

Louis Devaleix, Adolfo & Poroto Cambiaso, Tim Dutta, Harry & Meghan, Nacho, Delfina Figueras H & M

Too, there is the arc of father son bond of Adolfo & Poroto Cambiaso with Poroto displacing his father at the top of Argentine Polo. The beautifully shot and moving docuseries is completed by Harry & Meghan with their trusted companions Nacho & Delfina Figueras pulling it all together in a commanding and winning project for powerhouse streamer, Netflix.

After the seventh wave’s retreat, a horizon beyond hung shrouded in mystery. What is about to come our way, we wondered, as Meghan playfully teased us.

Goodness me, not only was Meghan returned to Instagram, but with phoenix-like heroism, she proved that mighty seventh wave that swept us all away, yet again.

Tabarnak de frigging Christ, then along comes this most soul-intoxicating aperitif, further pulling us under. We are fully submerged in Meghan’s winning magic. Netflix knows that matters not what the baying detractors say, filled with lies and nonsense, doing #Peggalicious and the little grovelling bastard’s bidding, Meghan is not just the most feared woman on the planet. Netflix knows that Meghan is the most powerful woman on the planet… not just Black woman on the planet.

So let them sit there, cackling, baying and frothing at the mouth, perpetually lying and wishing ill, from Lady Battyface Camp-Balls, to gap-toothed Lady Tittydown, or the pasty XXXL Irish bully with an arse as wide as the fucking Panama Canal, to that disproportionate gaggle of genocide-deniers who know that every lie they tell, will be readily believed. How does it even matter? This also includes the barrel-hipped nez brun who’s on the outs with #Peggalicious’s *BAC posse; he who has to date driven two persons to suicide. Why even bother paying it any mind? Neither they nor their noise is any business of Meghan’s; they do not matter!

With Love, Meghan. Netflix

And there it is, the strategy of Meghan’s self-mastery. She is back and not just with a revamped version of The Tig. This time, she has gone one better, she is got a cooking lifestyle brand on Netflix with American Riviera Orchard kitchenware, dinnerware on offer. That is the greatest master stroke. With the aptly titled lifestyle series on Netflix, Meghan is reminding the royals what it was all about. She was removed from their midst because in having spearheaded and produced the Together cookbook, she showed up the Firm, the Royals and the Media for what lazy, ne’er-do-wells the royals truly are. Imagine that, in under a year, Meghan breezes into the institution and shows them by her actions what true charity looks like. She met without fanfare with the affected, displaced, untouchable Grenfell community, gave them a renewed sense of community and in the process, created a vehicle, the Together Our Community Cookbook, which to this day spectacularly fundraises for the ravaged community.

Go on Meghan, prove to the world, across all time, that service truly is universal. It isn’t just about showing up in a pretty frock, grinning like a semi-feral gibbon en chaleur; it’s about doing the leg work, uplifting and inspiring others. It is not about showing up gurning like a drunken loon to flip a skillet that’s as flat as #Mumblelina’s arse, talking crap about flipping pancakes. Good lord, just look at Eliza Doolittle, drunk to the gills without so much as a fuck-all clue. The poor loon, no longer attending state banquets because as is the norm for separated royals, one can no longer wear a tiara. Then, too, there was the lack of a signature on the wreath left by William at the Cenotaph at Remembrance Sunday ceremony, November, 2024.

Meghan’s arrival on the scene proved disruptive. For that, the royals have unleashed a relentless campaign of character assassination, disinformation, enlisting all manner of readily bought detractors who troll for the prospect of proximity to the royals. These agents have multiple lines of attack, one being that the duchess was never pregnant and there are no offspring of Harry’s born to Meghan. Further, they try and eviscerate her Blackness from royal history by attempting to fracture the Sussexes’ relationship. They are forever implying that the couple are separated and living apart. Furthermore, they are ever implying that Harry is sick of being in America and desperate to return to the royal fold. Naturally, as everything is readily blamed on Meghan, they suggested that the Netflix deal has runs its course and as the Sussexes are running out of money, Harry will be returning to England but preferably without Meghan.

What are these desperate fabulists on about? Princess Lilibet’s godfather is a billionaire, which means that there is zero likelihood of Meghan and Harry going broke. Furthermore, with a billionaire godfather, there is positively no way that Harry & Meghan are leaving their bucolic California dream; more importantly, there is no need for the Sussex family to relocate to England. They have been racially preyed on, their lives threatened and police protection pulled.

Master strategists, Meghan and Harry have been guided to their point of power. With Love, Meghan is about to show the world precisely why Meghan and Harry were sent packing. In a few short months, with Together Our Community Cookbook, Meghan exposed the fraudulent operations of the Firm which masquerade its staged appearances and passing them off as acts of charity. In essence, the royals do not do sweet fuck all. So Meghan’s character was attacked and made out to be a bully and wanting to do things as never before they had been done. Of course C4’s Dispatches: The King, The Prince & Their Secret Millions serves to further expose the extent of the fraudulence on the part of the royals and the great lengths to which they go to maintain and protect their unscrupulous swindle. The investigation was undertaken by C4’s Dispatches program in conjunction with The Times and Daily Mirror newspapers. Between the Together cookbook & Netflix’s With Love, Meghan, Charles & William have been further exposed for the venal, racist, money-grubbing boors that they are. Indeed, karma is like that.

Recently, when having my burgeoning art collection appraised, I happened on this glorious gem, created by Merlin forty-five years ago in 1979. After having been mentored by him, and directed shows at The Stratford Festival Theatre, where John Hirsch was artistic director, Merlin created the mandala for his mentor. John and his artist lover, Jean-Emile Sanscartier, lived at 187 Hudson Drive in Toronto’s tony Moore Park neighbourhood. Both Merlin & John were sick with full-blown AIDS, though, John had taken ill after Merlin. John’s last birthday, his 59th, proved quite the send-off. Everyone from the Hungarian Jewish mafia as John lovingly called his friends and colleagues was there, including Merlin & I – Merlin at that point was birdlike and frail even more so than John. Barbara & Murray Frum were there and many in the film world had also flown in from Los Angeles. It was a very grey, drizzly spring evening, for his May 1, birthday celebration. There were lots of tears, never displayed before John.

Here was a man who had been spirited out of Hungary by train as every other relative in every possible direction had continued on to concentration camps and death. Though for being Black, I was made to feel at times as though the help, no one there knew, save Merlin who thought it best never to advertise the fact, that I was of Sephardic heritage to their Ashkenazy blood. Barrick Gold CEO Peter Munk had been earlier before our arrival and it had been Peter’s father, Louis who had spirited John Hirsch and other young kids by train to eventually settle in Canada. John felt especially guilty, as he confided in Merlin towards the end, in not having carried on the bloodline; of course, today it would have been possible where not so when he lived. It was overwhelming seeing this mandala after all those years tucked away. I lost a few tears but as John would have it, I began playing his ‘Ella’ the music of Ella Fitzgerald because let’s face it, we are – all of us, men-loving-men, drag queens who readily howl in tune when no one’s watching, be it Edith Piaf, Madonna, Céline Dion, Diana Ross, Aretha Franklin, Barbra Streisand, Sarah Vaughan and most of all John’s favourite, Ella!

In the dead of the night, on August 1, 1989, John Hirsch died at Toronto’s Mount Sinai Hospital. The next day, my 29th birthday, Merlin insisted that I go to work at the greenhouse. He wanted to be alone and privately mourn his mentor, John. Calling him at noon as the most massive thunderstorm drenched the city, we both cried silently, mostly drowned out by the rain and thunder. Excusing myself from work early, I hurried home and together we hugged and cried as John was gone, which inevitably meant that Merlin would be leaving in due course. We listened to the recording, Vladimir Horowitz At Home, then bravely headed to celebrate my birthday at a lovely restaurant in Yorkville. Merlin died three months later, on his mother’s 75th birthday.

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Hirsch, John 1/5/30, Soifok, Hungary<O>1/8/89 Toronto

Michael: John was a fifth level mature warrior in passion mode, with a goal of dominance, a pragmatist in the moving part of intellectual centre.  

This fragment had a Mars/Saturn body type. 

John’s primary chief feature was arrogance with a strong secondary of impatience.  

This fragment has a warrior essence twin, who is alive, and they may choose to meet when the fragment who was John reincarnates, during the first two decades of the new millennium.  

In fact, he may choose to be born to his essence twin who is now a 16-year-old school girl but who would probably be closer to 26 years when the fragment who was John decides to reincarnate.  She is Israeli, living in the city of Jerusalem.  

John was second-cast in his cadence and his cadence is fourth in the greater cadence.  He is a member of entity two – making him entity mates with George Hawken and Jesse Hawken – cadre four, greater cadre 7, pod/node 414; he has known both the fragment Arvin and the fragment who was Merlin in many prior lives.

He and Merlin are, in fact, old comrades-at-arms, which is the closest non-essence bond of all.  

He has an artisan task companion, who is the fragment Jean-Emile Sanscartier, his lover in the immediate past life.  Unfortunately, Jean-Emile’s chief feature stood in the way of their life task and it will likely be completed in a future life together.  

This is an artisan-cast warrior with strong scholar energy in his casting.  There is also a great deal of drama here and in the past, this has been put to good use on the stage, both in classical Greece and in fairly contemporary times in England.  

A recent pivotal life for this warrior fragment was in the late nineteenth century, in 1878, when as a Zulu Warrior/shaman; he fought alongside Cetewayo, against the British and learned the agonising power of defeat, when they lost their struggle in following years and lived to see their homeland annexed.  

He also learned, in this very recent life, the power of the dance in uniting the tribe and this lesson aided him greatly in his immediate past life. (1998)

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Ella Fitzgerald – Vocals

Don Abney & Oscar Peterson – Piano

Ray Brown – Bass

Jo Jones – Drums

Herb Ellis – Guitar

Roy Eldridge – Trumpet

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*BAC – backward-pussied, ass-eating, cocksuckers of which #Peggalicious’s posse includes the foxy but straight-acting, Christian type, The Duke of Buckingham & Norfolk, Jaysun Nuffnuff – the chinless hillbilly fabulist, Jasmine, the aggressive bottom retriever, Simi, the shit-obsessed encased pet fly. There are others, of course, but they all have this much in common – they favour beards, moustaches and are passionately obsessed with dining out en derrière.

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You are to Jazz what wings are to an ostrich; what the fuck do eagles care that queer, unaware ostriches have wings?

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