Prince William’s ‘Scotland Trip’ Was Just Him Trying to Avoid Doing the Dishes at Anmer Hall
LONDON – Look, I get it. Sometimes you just need to get out of the house. Maybe the wife is nagging you about that leaky faucet you promised to fix three months ago. Maybe the kids are being little nightmares. Maybe you just want to stare at a loch for three hours and feel like a broody poet. But for Prince William, the heir to the throne, a “working trip to Scotland” is code for “I am running away from my problems and calling it diplomacy.”
This week, His Royal Highness was spotted doing his best impression of a relatable human being in the Scottish Highlands, shaking hands with a bunch of local volunteers and looking appropriately windswept and interested. The official line from the Palace, as always, was about “strengthening community ties” and “understanding the challenges facing rural Scotland.” But anyone with two brain cells to rub together knows the real story: This is a man who saw the calendar flip to October and thought, “Ah yes, the perfect time to go somewhere colder and wetter than Norfolk. Genius.”
Let’s break down the optics here. William, dressed in a perfectly broken-in Barbour jacket that costs more than my car, is trying to convince us he’s just a simple country lad who loves a good blether with the locals. He’s doing the “humble royal” bit, bending down to talk to a pensioner about her jam-making, laughing with a group of farmers about the price of barley. It’s cute. It’s staged. It’s the same PR playbook they’ve been running since Diana taught them that looking like you care is 90% of the job.
But let’s be real for a second. The man is currently in a cold war with his brother, his sister-in-law is writing a tell-all memoir that’s probably going to drop harder than a mic at a rap battle, and his wife—the future Queen—is still trying to figure out how to navigate the minefield of being a royal while simultaneously convincing people she didn’t actually bully anyone. So what does William do? He hops on a plane to the one place in the UK where the press coverage is guaranteed to be soft and the only drama is whether the haggis is undercooked.
This isn’t a royal engagement. This is a strategic retreat.
The Scottish engagement circuit is the ultimate “soft launch” for any royal having a bad week. You show up, you look at a sheep, you say “aye” a few times, you pose for a photo next to a waterfall, and suddenly the front page of the Daily Mail is about how “William’s Heartwarming Connection with the Scottish People” instead of “William’s Brother Just Called Him a Bald Fraud.” It’s a masterclass in media manipulation, and honestly? Respect.
But here’s the part that’s going to get me ratioed on X (formerly Twitter, get over it): It’s also kind of pathetic. The guy is 42 years old. He’s supposed to be the future King of the United Kingdom. And his big move for the week is to go stand in a field in Scotland and pretend he’s interested in a new community composting initiative. Sir, you are one toilet flush away from being the most powerful man in the country. Can we please get some drama? Some ambition? Some sense that you’re not just running out the clock until your dad pops it and you get the crown?
Instead, we get this: William in a flat cap, nodding along to a local historian explain the history of a stone wall. William petting a dog that is definitely more famous than he is. William laughing at a joke that was clearly not funny but he has to pretend it is because the local MP told it. It’s the same boring, safe, beige content we’ve been getting for years. It’s the royal equivalent of a beige Honda Civic. It gets you from A to B, but nobody is excited to drive it.
And don’t even get me started on the “windswept” photos. Every single picture from this trip looks like it was taken during a Category 1 hurricane. His hair is a mess. His cheeks are red. He looks like he just ran a marathon through a car wash. It’s clearly intentional. The Palace wants us to believe he’s a rugged, outdoorsy man of the people who braves the elements for his duties. But we all know the truth: He’s just standing there for five minutes while a photographer yells “LOOK LEFT, WILLY, ACT LIKE YOU’RE SEARCHING FOR A LOCH NESS.”
The whole thing is a farce. A beautiful, expensive, well-photographed farce. But it’s also incredibly boring. I’m supposed to be outraged? I’m supposed to be impressed? I’m just… tired. Tired of the same recycled PR stunts. Tired of the “relatable prince” narrative. Tired of watching a man who has never had to figure out how to pay for an oil change pretend he gives a damn about the cost of living crisis.
But you know who this trip is really for? The Scottish people. Because let’s be honest, the monarchy’s hold on Scotland is about as secure as a wet paper bag in a hurricane. There’s a growing independence movement, a lot of people who think the whole “royal family” thing is a bit of a joke, and a general sentiment that the Windsors are just English landlords with a better PR team. So William has to go up there, shake everyone’s hand, and remind them that, hey, the future King is actually a decent bloke who likes a good pie and a dram of whiskey.
It’s damage control. Pure and simple. He’s not there to learn about Scottish culture. He’s there to stop Scotland from voting to kick his family out of the country. And he’s doing it by looking sad and interested in the rain.
So yeah, congratulations, Prince William. You successfully spent three days in Scotland without causing
Final Thoughts
Having covered royal engagements for decades, I’ve seen how these carefully choreographed events often feel more like stage-managed PR than genuine connection. But what struck me about Prince William’s recent appearance in Scotland was the unforced ease—a rare glimpse of a future king who seems more comfortable in the rain-soaked Highlands than he ever does on the Buckingham Palace balcony. Ultimately, these visits aren’t just about ribbon-cutting; they’re the quiet, patient work of reminding a skeptical public that the monarchy can still feel relevant, one handshake and awkward conversation at a time.