A FAIRYTALE princess, wearing a long white train and kissing her new husband at the top of the castle steps.

A ride through the local town waving at the peasants from your horse drawn carriage. How perfectly lovely.

If, that is, you're five years old. Or an adult with a weird penchant for Disney films based on Brothers Grimm tales.

I am heartily, thoroughly and utterly sick of Royal weddings, Royal babies, Meghan's latest pair of shoes, or whether or not she's holding files appropriately positioned to hide her 'baby bump'.

I really don't want to read about why Fergie posted a load of pictures on Twitter about her beloved daughter's wedding just minutes after the moment the Duchess of Essex, or Sussex, or whatever county she is supposed to represent, shared news of her 'baby joy' on the social media site.

I do not care if Harry has broken Royal protocol, whatever that even means, by wearing pink socks instead of black, or that the Duchess and Duke of Cambridge are said to be 'absolutely thrilled' at the birth of their nephew at the £7,000-a-night Lindo Wing, but haven't bothered to go and visit him yet.

Even crazier are the newspaper headlines which speculate how the long-deceased Diana, Princess of Wales would feel about her sons' wives and children. She died 21 years ago. She was not known for being conventionally Royal. If she was still alive she either probably be in rehab somewhere, or have had a midlife crisis and gone to India to become a spiritual healer/saint who could cure children of terminal illness just by laying her hand on their heads, while holidaying in the Maldives on her private atoll every other week.

What isn't reported so much is the constant battle between brothers Prince Charles and the Duke of York about his place and that of his family within the Royal circle.

For once, and it pains me to say this, I have to agree with Prince Charles. The taxpayer shelled out £2m for some minor royal, a huge ten or maybe eleven places away from the throne, to have security at her overly-extravagant wedding at the weekend.

If there is anything which presents a greater danger to the future of the Royal family it is the hangers-on, the minor Royals, who feel in some way that this kind of behaviour is their god-given right. Prince Charles is attempting to fade the wider family into the shadows, leaving his unit centre stage.

Eugenie's wedding and three days of ostentatious parties was her father's way of sticking the middle finger up at her Uncle Charles and trying to wrestle back some column inches, some notoriety, back from the brunettes his sons married whose smiles are so broad I sometimes fear their faces will crack.

I know the Royalists will talk about how much money they bring in, and how good they are for our national image.

My friend volunteers at a food bank locally. Through the summer holidays there were many, many children who, away from the comfort blanket of term-time free school meals, did not have enough to eat.

If anyone thinks spending £2m on a wedding for an insignificant Royal is a good idea, well, I think history will judge them accordingly.