Every few weeks, the British royal family drops a new episode, and America collectively cancels its plans.
Not officially, of course—we act like we don’t care. We roll our eyes, scroll past the headlines, maybe even mutter something about “taxpayer-funded melodrama.” But next thing you know, you’re deep in a Yahoo article about King Charles kicking Andrew out of the royal house, and you’re googling “what is Sandringham?”
Why? Because the royals are the world’s longest-running reality show—and we’re hooked.
They’ve got it all: wealth, scandal, centuries of trauma, and hats that could land a small plane. It’s “Succession” meets “The Crown,” only with better lighting and real titles.
We say we care about justice, accountability, and modern values. What we actually care about is drama with accents.
Prince Andrew losing his titles? That’s not politics—it’s theater. It’s the spectacle of consequence without any of the messy local fallout. You can’t turn on CNN for closure. But with the royals? There’s always an official statement, a castle, and a photo op.
And let’s be honest—America loves monarchy as long as it’s not our own.
We rejected kings but kept the craving for royalty. The Kardashians, the NFL, Taylor Swift—we crowned our own. The Windsors just give us a different flavor of dynasty: formal wear, cold palaces, and enough generational dysfunction to keep the tabloids in business forever.
King Charles driving to check on Andrew’s new digs isn’t news—it’s family gossip at a global scale.
But it hits the same nerve as a neighbor’s divorce or a coworker’s demotion. We watch because it’s messy, familiar, and—thankfully—not ours.
So why do we care?
Because monarchy is the world’s original influencer brand. And no matter how many revolutions we’ve had, Americans still can’t resist a scandal with a crown.