Warring royals should take a long walk with their father

Poor Princes William and Harry. Two brothers, once so close, now torn apart by... well, that depends on whose narrative you choose to believe.

It sometimes feels as if everyone has to pick a side in affairs such as these. It’s rather like the breakdown of a celebrity marriage: are you with Jennifer or Brad; Angelina or Brad? And even in the most clear-cut of cases, you can always find contrary voices who will merrily place the blame on an innocent party.

I’d like to think there is actually a sizeable, silent majority who aren’t spending their hours getting frothy at the mouth about “Harry’s outrageous behaviour!” or about “William’s despicable conduct!”. There may even be a few people out there who couldn’t give two hoots about the whole saga. Perish the thought!

One thing is surely certain, however: there are no winners in this royal rumble (except perhaps for arch republicans). Whether or not William grabbed Harry by the collar and pushed him into a dog bowl, as Harry alleges in his eagerly anticipated memoir, the breakdown of their relationship – and the telling of it, both officially and unofficially – isn’t a good look for either of them. It’s not quite Game of Thrones territory; more like posh EastEnders. And as it happens, the older the princes get, the more it’s possible to imagine them being played by Ross Kemp and Steve McFadden.

All sibling relationships have their moments, of course. As a child, I was an absolute shit towards my younger brother, who I would consistently wind up until finally a fight would break out, which I would win. I stopped the physical violence only when he got bigger and stronger than me, which fortunately for both of us was before we got into our teens.

My children, five and half years apart in age, share fewer interests than my brother and I did, but have fewer fights. Still, over Christmas there were one or two blow-ups, including one incident when my daughter (13) kicked the boy (probably deserved), and then got huffy because she got told off by her grandmother. “You never tell him off when he does it to me!” she cried, pointing at her brother. “You just say, ‘Poor little boy’.” Life is never fair for siblings, whichever one of them you ask.

In adulthood, it would be nice to think that brothers and sisters could just rub along pleasantly, even if they don’t remain as close – or as intensely bonded – as they generally are in childhood. Happily, my brother and I now get on very well and have turned out to be much more similar than I would have expected 20 years ago. It must be three decades since we had any proper fisticuffs.

But for all the sibling rivalries that transform into best friendship, there are clearly a few that morph into bitter enmity. I knew a pair of brothers who were once close but who fell out badly over a case of scabies; another set of siblings who divided into bitter factions over their father’s remarriage. And there are any number of examples of familial fallings-out among the rich or famous, with brothers seemingly the most prone to allowing ambition and anger to thwart the bonds of love and affection. The Gallaghers, the Milibands, the Pogbas are a few recent examples to add to those of bygone times – the Kelloggs, the Dasslers, Cain and Abel.

Sibling feuds can be repaired, of course, but there is little sign of that happening in the case of William and Harry, separated as they are by literal and metaphorical oceans. Talking might help, but probably not when the talking is being done to TV interviewers and journalists.

Perhaps King Charles could try a tactic with his boys that I’ve used with my kids. Take them on such a long walk together that the resentment they feel towards one another is eventually transferred to the idiot parent who forced them on the trek in the first place. It’s definitely worked for me.