Brake fast at Tiffany’s

A member of my international worldwide network of spies – now that I know how much this winds them up, I’ll start using it again – was at Tiffany & Co in Manhattan some weeks ago and was asked by a member of staff where he’s from because of his unusual accent.

“Malta,” he said, and was met with the response: “Oh! We had your Queen here in our store.” My spjun explained that Malta is a republic and hasn’t had a queen since 1974 and the current incumbent at Buckingham Palace, but the staff member was not to be convinced. Malta’s queen, you see, had actually invited him over to Malta to stay in her palace.

My spjun was transfixed. A little more conversation over the rings and gewgaws and he discovered that Our Queen (she makes us proud) rolled up to Tiffany with her daughters when they were in New York for the UN General Assembly (during term-time), threw her weight about, bought nothing and engineered a situation in which The Royal Twins were given gifts. Because, of course, if their mother is the Queen of Malta to an American who knows little of Europe, then Soleil and Etoile are the princesses.

The Queen of Malta with her Kink (well, hardly)