After watching the antics of bonny Prince Louis of Cambridge last week at Queen Elizabeth’s Platinum Jubilee Celebration and Wet Waistcoat Contest, I found myself thinking somebody needs to ship the wee master across the pond so a Southern Mee-maw could, er, correct a few bad behaviors.

Louis, age 4, is a walking, talking meme. He slams his little palm over mom, Kate Middleton’s, mouth to make her stop talking. He rolls his eyes when bored with the exaggeration of a Catskills comic in the ’50s. Take my monarchy, please.

At the Jubilee, he literally thumbed his nose at his parents during the pageantry. Blimey! The only time Prince Louis seemed composed was while sitting with his grandfather, Prince Charles Who Will Never, Ever Be King and Nobody Even Cares Anymore Least of All His Own Mother. Perhaps Charles’ sadness, as omnipresent as Camilla’s unfortunate off-white stockings, moves even the tiny tyrant to a rare and respectful silence.

The British press is besotted with Prince Louis, calling him “delightfully precocious” and a “charmer whose crowd-pleasing antics never disappoint.”

Oh, sure they do.

You can’t blame Prince Louis, though. He leads a pretty cushy life from what I can tell. He probably has a child from the village fetched every day to taste his pudding to make sure it’s not too hot.

You can imagine him sitting with his quieter siblings wondering aloud, “I wonder what the poor people are doing tonight.”

All of which means a Southern Mee-maw intervention is needed here. And soon.

Of course, no one spanks anymore so we will need Mee-maw 2.0 for the task. There can be no invitation to “go get a switch” in this modern age. When we know better, we do better. I believe Howard Stern said that.

Once he arrives in mythical Catgut, N.C., Prince Louis will be taught to “straighten up and fly right” not by a proper English governess in starched pinafore and thick-soled shoes but by a genuine Southern great grandma, wearing aqua crocs and a sweatshirt decorated with “U.S. Songbirds.” This is the uniform of a warrior going into battle and it is, statistically speaking, undefeated.

Prince Louis will frown at the bowlful of grits presented him for his first stateside breakfast. His trademark scowl, which is “delightfully iconic” according to royal-watchers and “incredibly annoying” to everyone else, will be greeted with Southern Mee-maw wisdom.

“You keep scrunching up yer face and it’ll freeze like that.”


If he raises his tiny fists to her, she will laugh loudly and remind him “You can get glad in the same clothes you got sad in.”

He is 4, so this may take a moment for all that wisdom to sink in, but he will ultimately understand she’s telling him “Let go of what’s making you mad.”

    As he stomps and sasses, she will instruct him “don’t act ugly.” Which is Southern for “stop being a jerk.” She will be moved to tell him she’s ill with him and he will come to decipher that this “ill” has nothing to do with a physical ailment.

    By the time he is returned to his loving family, and Megan Markle, Prince Louis will be whipped (not really!) into shape and become the model of decorum. And if he backslides? Help is just an overnight flight away. And it’s got a new pair of crocs.


Celia Rivenbark is a NYT-bestselling author and columnist. Write to her at [email protected].