Sorry I'm A Lady

“Wanted. Toff with common touch. No sense of humour needed but should be able to make small talk and pretend to be interested in people. Opportunity to collect lots of air miles. Starting salary ridiculously high. Must be eccentric. Dressing up box provided.”

I imagine that’s how the Royal Family might advertise a job if they run out of blood ties to keep the circus going. It’s a peculiar vocation, isn’t it, but the perks outweigh having to sit through the Royal Variety Performance once a year.

Having a name like Fergie is a lot to live up to. Sir Alex Ferguson fronts one of the world’s most successful soccer teams, Stacy Ferguson fronts the Black Eyed Peas and, and Sarah, Duchess of Debt, has more front than all of them put together. She’s just been caught by a newspaper with her hands in the collecting box.

I was not surprised when Sarah Ferguson was discovered begging money in return for favours. There’s a word for that. I even expected to find that she’s in debt again having squandered her money on high living. There’s a word for that too. And let’s face it, she’s not the brightest disco ball in the Royal ballroom so it won’t be the last time we raise our eyes at her silliness.

But unlike the bloke who licked her toes I can’t seem to put my tongue on the proper word for what she did next. Having decided that even by her standards she had gone too far, Fergie chose to go on the Oprah Winfrey show in America to apologise. Now forgive me if I’m missing something but as she tried to sell the British Royal Family down the river should she not have apologised here? Is that not like burgling your neighbour’s house and then scarpering to the next county and shouting “sorry” across two motorways while miles away and safe?

Can someone not take her aside and teach her to be a grown up? Maybe insist she won’t get ice cream for tea, will be grounded, sent her to her bedroom and have the TV and Facebook taken away for a week. It works in our house.

I’ve met many members of the Royal Family and they have been unfailingly courteous and pleasant, but I wouldn’t have their job for all the money in the world. I mean, fancy having to be pleasant to me? And, despite what cynics may say, some of them work very hard. Sometimes an hour a day.

Problem with Fergie is that once the dressing up box was taken away, her sense of purpose went too. Not for her a job as a barista in Starbucks or jumping out from behind bushes in B&Q car park asking if you want your car washed. She borrows a limousine each day and pays a cab driver to sit up front as if playing at being Princess in the school play.

But if she really wants to be seen as being classy she has to learn that you apologise to the person you've offended, not to their mates.

Fergie, my dear, being First Class is not just about turning left on a plane. It’s about so much more.
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After chasing her for months I had the great song writer Ingrid Michaelson in for an interview and session this week. If you’d like to see her sing the song Parachute, the hit that she wrote for Cheryl Cole, then click here. You'll never want to hear Cheryl's version again.