The Duke of Dirtybastardshire
TetleysTLDR: The Summary
Prince Andrew is the festering symbol of Britain’s rotten ruling class, a parasite shielded by the Crown. He was friends with Jeffrey Epstein, stayed in his homes even after his conviction, and paid millions to Virginia Giuffre while denying wrongdoing. Any ordinary man would be in prison. Andrew is protected by palace walls and suspicious bailouts. His record as 'trade envoy' was just grifting for despots, arms dealers, and kleptocrats, often in cahoots with the Thatcher clan. His lifestyle, debts and shady deals prove he’s a failed prince propped up by privilege. Meanwhile, the far right and GB News rage about 'Muslim grooming gangs' but stay deafeningly silent on the Queen’s son cavorting with a child trafficker. Labour won’t touch him either, too cowardly to offend the monarchy. Andrew isn’t an aberration, he is symptomatic of the system. A grubby little spiv in ermine, proof the monarchy itself is filth.
TetleysTLDR: The article
If Britain needed a mascot for its decrepit ruling class, look no further than Prince Andrew, a man who manages to embody every rotting facet of this island’s aristocratic disease. He’s a parasite dressed in Savile Row, the Duke of Dirtybastardshire: the title he’s earned, not one of the many his mummy bestowed. In a world where the ruling elite bay for the blood of 'foreigners' and 'grooming gangs' and anyone who doesn’t tug the forelock to their idea of Englishness, it’s instructive how their silence is deafening when the sex-pest in question wears ermine.
Prince Andrew was pals with Jeffrey Epstein, the billionaire pedophile trafficker who collected rich men like insects in his jar of sleaze. Not an acquaintance, not a polite hello at a party, they were mates. He stayed at Epstein’s houses even after the slimeball was convicted. He walked in Central Park with him. He partied on private islands. He let Epstein’s and his fixer, Ghislaine Maxwell, crawl into the very heart of Britain’s establishment, attending Windsor Castle and Balmoral like they belonged. Andrew’s defence, such as it was, laughable in its limpness was basically, “I don’t sweat and I was in Pizza Express in Woking.” Christ on a bike. This was the excuse of a man so drenched in entitlement he thought it would wash.
But here’s the thing: he didn’t face trial, he didn’t face justice. He paid millions in an out-of-court settlement to Virginia Giuffre while denying everything. If you or I had been photographed with an underage trafficking victim’s arm around our waist, if our names had been splashed across Epstein’s address book, we’d be rotting in a cell. But Andrew? He’s still drawing from the family trough, hiding behind palace walls, occasionally wheeled out for some shameless rehab campaign before public disgust forces him back into the shadows.
This is Britain’s monarchy in microcosm: unaccountable, rotten, shielded by the establishment. But Andrew adds an extra layer, he’s not just lazy, he’s a grubby little grifter.
When he wasn’t busy disgracing himself with Epstein, Andrew styled himself as Britain’s 'special envoy' for trade. What did that mean in practice? Whoring himself out to dictators and oligarchs for 'business opportunities'. He was the monarchy’s spiv, flogging introductions to despots, cosying up to oil barons and arms dealers, and treating the royal crest like a logo for hire. The Duke of York was less an ambassador than a jumped-up travel agent for kleptocrats. And let’s not forget his grubby ties to the Thatchers. Carol Thatcher once boasted of family closeness to Andrew, and his chumming up with Mark 'Arms Deal and revolution funder' Thatcher is infamous. Mark Thatcher, the eternal embarrassment who made his millions greasing palms in dodgy defence contracts and meddling in African coups was the kind of man Andrew thought was good company. And why wouldn’t he? The Thatchers and the Windsors are cut from the same cloth: entitled parasites who think Africa is a playground for their enrichment.
Andrew’s links to African wars and blood-soaked profiteering are not conspiracy theories, they’re documented. He was photographed meeting with murderous leaders, shaking hands with kleptocrats, and treating human rights abusers as if they were just another investment opportunity. Behind the curtains, he and his Thatcherite chums operated as a conduit for Britain’s arms industry, profiting off the very conflicts that displaced and butchered millions. A royal hustler in medals he earned solely because he was born a Prince, wandering round the killing fields with his sticky fingers out.
And then there’s the sheer brass neck of the man. His lifestyle has always outstripped his means. The mystery millions from shady sources, the Swiss chalet debts, the endless 'business partners' whose names are a roll-call of global corruption. Andrew has been bailed out time and again by the family firm, and by extension, by us, the taxpayer. He is a failed businessman, a failed envoy, a failed prince, but somehow he never actually fails because the monarchy will not let him sink.
It’s a point that needs hammering: if Andrew had been born in a council flat in Middlesbrough, he’d be doing time for fraud and sex crimes. Instead, he was born into a palace, so he’s treated with kid gloves.
Now look at the hypocrisy of Britain’s far right. These are the people who foam at the mouth about 'Muslim grooming gangs' and scream about protecting 'our children'. And yet when the Queen’s favourite son is photographed hanging out with the most notorious child trafficker on earth, they don’t bat an eyelid. Nigel Farage isn’t frothing at the mouth about the royal paedo. The Reform Party aren’t marching on Windsor with flaming torches. GB News aren’t running nightly specials on Andrew’s sordid past. Why? Because for them, sexual predation isn’t the problem. The problem is who commits it. If it’s brown or Muslim working-class men, then it’s a 'national emergency'. If it’s a royal, a Tory donor, a Catholic priest, a member of their own rotten clique, then suddenly it’s 'complicated'.
Suddenly, silence.
This is the same far right that went wild about Jimmy Savile once he was dead, but ignored the fact he was knighted by the Queen and protected for decades by the establishment. The same people who think the monarchy is the moral heart of Britain, when its own house is infested with sleaze.
The point isn’t that Andrew is uniquely evil, he’s banal: a dull-witted princeling who thought his mummy’s crown was a get-out-of-jail-free card. The point is that Andrew shows the system works. The British establishment protects its own. Pedophiles in ermine are untouchable, while working-class men rot in prison. No one should be above the law. Royals can fly around the world selling access to despots, but whistle-blowers get silenced and the far right cheer it on, because they’re not really against abuse. They’re against uppity immigrants, feminists, Muslims and the poor. Their silence on Andrew screams louder than their outrage about Rochdale ever could.
And look at the Labour Party. Starmer’s crew won't touch Andrew with a bargepole. Not because they think he’s innocent, but because they’re gutless. Mandelson has quite rightly been given his marching orders but they bow to the monarchy, lick the boots of our glorious institutions and let the House of Windsor get away with anything. Not a word about Andrew’s grifting or his Epstein holidays. Not a word about blood money or dodgy deals. They’re terrified of offending the Sun or the Mail, terrified of sounding unpatriotic.
So Andrew is left to slither in semi-exile, waiting for the day the media decides to launder him back into public life. Meanwhile, the palace PR machine keeps working overtime. Stories about Andrew 'helping out' at royal events, or being 'welcomed back into the fold'. Drip, drip, drip. They’re testing the water. They think time will heal. They think we’ll forget.
We shouldn’t forget. Why? because Andrew isn’t just one bad apple. He’s symptomatic of the whole fucking orchard. He’s the festering symbol of hereditary privilege: unaccountable, parasitic, smug, violent in its silence. His story is the story of the British ruling class. They can rape, rob, cheat, exploit, and still expect respect. Still expect deference. Still expect us to sing God Save the King and wave Union Jacks while they laugh behind closed doors.
So let’s call him what he is: not the Duke of York, but the Duke of Dirtybastardshire. A royal parasite, a grifter in uniform, a spiv with a title. H is friends were pedophiles, his business was blood money, his shield is the Crown. And the far right don’t care, because deep down, this is who they are too. They worship power, not morality. They protect their own, not children. Britain should be ashamed. But Britain doesn’t do shame, does it? It does silence. It does deference. It does move along, nothing to see here.
And as long as we tolerate that, the Andrews of this world will keep on sweating, or not sweating, their way out of justice. And if you’re still clutching your pearls about me calling him the Duke of Dirtybastardshire, ask yourself this: what’s worse, mocking the title of a pedophile-adjacent royal spiv, or letting him keep it? The monarchy is filth. Andrew is the proof. And if this country had any self-respect left, we’d dump the lot of them in the Thames and finally wash our hands of centuries of the parasitic scum.
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