In a twist that would make Ibsen choke on his aquavit, Norway’s very own heir to the throne is currently occupying a very different kind of throne: the defendant’s bench in a rape trial. Marius Borg Høiby, the son of Crown Princess Mette-Marit, stands accused of a crime so sordid it would make even the most jaded tabloid editor blush. And what, you ask, is the British monarchy doing?
Watching. Of course, watching. From their gilded cage in London, they observe the Norwegian legal system with the detached fascination of a naturalist studying a particularly vigorous species of beetle.
Do they see a cautionary tale? A potential future for Prince Andrew? Or are they simply grateful that, for once, the spotlight is on someone else’s dysfunctional family?
The verdict is expected to drop any moment, and the world holds its breath, not because it cares about Norwegian jurisprudence, but because this is infinitely more entertaining than the latest GDP figures. The prosecution has painted a picture of a privileged young man who mistook his royal blood for a license to treat women as feudal property. The defence, no doubt, will argue that it was all a terrible misunderstanding, that his client is a victim of his own celebrity, or perhaps that he was possessed by the ghost of a Viking raider.
Either way, the circus is in town, and the British royals are front row centre, trying to look concerned but failing miserably. You can almost hear the whispered prayers from Buckingham Palace: 'Thank God it’s not us. Thank God it’s not Andrew.
Not this time.' But let us not forget the real victims here: the journalists who have to pronounce 'Borg Høiby' without spitting. And the gin.
The gin is running low in Oslo’s press bar. This is a tragedy of Shakespearean proportions, if Shakespeare had written about Instagram influencers and the moral decay of inherited privilege. Verdict imminent.
Watch this space.
