Meghan, Harry, and Barry

I’m not a celebrity. I’m not even sure I qualify as a public figure. But the media used to be my friend. Media exposure built my business, getting me speaking gigs not just in the U.S. but in places like Cancun and Ireland and the Sultanate of Oman. It bought me my home in Santa Barbara.

Then, recently, I did something despicable.

Apparently.

Prince Harry and Meghan Markle were reportedly moving from the Santa Barbara area, and a British reporter wanted a comment about them. I said, I don’t know them. I said, I live down the road in a considerably cheaper neighborhood. I said, since we never see them, local opinion seems to mirror U.S. opinion in general. Some people seem to like them no matter what, others are unimpressed by the soap opera or just sick of hearing about them.

Just my quick take on local sentiment. Not particularly perceptive. Hardly newsworthy.

The first story appeared in The Mirror, the British tabloid. The headline read: “EXCLUSIVE: Meghan and Harry ‘close to selling £11 million home as neighbours are sick of them.’”

The “neighbor” in question was one Barry Maher. Me. The only “neighbor” in the article.

The distinction between “sick of hearing about them” and “sick of them” is the distinction between journalism and whatever this was. Then The News International wrote, “Speaking to the Mirror, PR and communication expert Barry Maher, who resides in the same area, revealed the Duke and Duchess of Sussex are never seen at their property.”

Meghan and Harry have seven acres. (I googled it.) They could be cavorting around the property with Anastasia Romanov, the lost tribes of Israel, and Jo-Jo the Dog-faced Boy, and I couldn’t see any of it from where I live.

In The Royal Observer, the neighbors (me) were exhausted by the royals’ “antics.” BNN wrote, “Barry Maher paints a picture of a community divided.” WP Media reported, “Prince Harry and Meghan Markle plan Montecito exit amid neighborhood discontent.” (Again, just me.)

Sorry, Meghan. Sorry, Harry. Please don’t sell your cozy little home because of me. Think of young Archie and poor little Lilibet. Think of trying to scrape by without 16 bathrooms! (Google, again.)

As the story traveled, so did my credentials. Sometimes I was simply “local resident Barry Maher.” Usually I was given some dubious authority. “Barry Maher who regularly appears on top TV programmes.” (Really?) Or “Barry Maher, a PR and communication whizz.”

The Royal Observer elevated me to “royal expert Barry Maher.” And they should know, observing royals as they apparently do. By the time the story got to Pakistani TV — Pakistani TV! Are you freaking kidding me? — I was “renowned royal expert Barry Maher.” All I know about royalty is that we fought a war to get rid of them. Obviously it didn’t take. But apparently if the neighbors get discontented enough, the royals might just leave on their own.

And in this case, the neighbors (or as I like to call them, me) were becoming more aggressive. GBUK Royals, with over 140,000 YouTube subscribers, turned my quote into, “’We are sick and tired of you’ neighbours ask Sussex to depart.” In What’s Up Today, Meghan and Harry were “forced to sell $11M home over angry neighbors.”

The story circled the globe. The only constants were “Barry Maher,” and “Meghan and Harry.” (It’s almost always “Meghan and Harry,” seldom “Harry and Meghan.” If you think I’m going to comment on that, you haven’t been paying attention.)

In the U.S.A., MSN downgraded me from “royal expert” to “tabloid informant.” That probably killed any chance of my alma mater ever naming a library after me. Or even admitting I went there.

But it wasn’t until social media kicked in that I found out just what a horrible person I truly am. I tried to explain. That only made things worse. So I deleted my explanations, and just got out of the way. Clearly the outrage was the point. And it fed on itself. Post after post for days. None of them favorable. Nobody threatened my life. Maiming probably would have been sufficient, as long as it was severe enough to keep me from ever procreating.

Surprisingly few of these people seemed to have actually read one of the articles. They simply knew what somebody had posted about the story. Or what somebody had posted about what somebody had posted. Or what … You get the idea. It was like the Telephone Game from Hell.

Social media had turned on me. And it was a mob. When it came to pure unadulterated evil I was second only to the animal photographer who’d posted that she was looking for a border collie to shoot.

So I’m sorry Meghan. I’m sorry Harry. I really am. If it’s any consolation, I’m getting out of the renowned royal expert business. Now that articles have started attributing my remarks to “an insider,” I feel like I’m practically one of the family. Which would be fitting punishment for my sins.

Just don’t quote me on that. Please.

Speaker, author Barry Maher may be the only Royal Expert who ever asked his wife, “Which one is William?”