Odious toad Earl Spencer may as well have danced on Diana’s grave – but nephew Harry is a run-up for Twit of the Year

DURING the 127th annual Upper Class Twit Of The Year competition, five chinless wonders competed for the title of Britain’s poshest idiot. The toffee-nosed twerps were faced with Olympian tasks such as removing a debutante’s bra, kicking a beggar, running over an old lady in a sports car, walking along a straight line and shooting a rabbit — before killing themselves. Odious toad Earl Spencer may as well have danced on Diana’s grave Credit: PA Harry has always been a few fries shy of a Happy Meal too Credit: Getty The comic masterpiece was first dreamt up by Monty Python in the early 1970s and has been viewed by millions since on that YouTube machine thingamy. The on-screen battle of the blue bloods was won by brain-free Kensingtonian Grenadier Guard Gervaise Brook-Hampster, described as being “used as a wastepaper basket by his father”. In modern Britain, Upper Class Twit Of The Year would have a crowded field, many of whom have also spent considerable time in Kensington, in the walls of its grandest home no less — and in our military too. Pudgy regal perv and ex-naval commander Andrew Mountbatten-Windsor must surely be in for a clipped shout, absolutely no sweat. Like one of the original contestants, one might easily imagine the hapless A-M-W running himself over with one of his Range Rovers — and trying to unfasten the undergarments of a young girl. Harry has always been a few fries shy of a Happy Meal too, a seemingly fully formed man unable to calculate the duration of a school run. I guess logistics wasn’t his strong point in the Army. Another one who bemoans media scrutiny while penning a tell-all autobiography and signing Netflix deals to heap misery on his own family, while he and the missus splurge photographs of their children and locations on social meeja. Harry was once one of the most celebrated figures in Britain when he returned from stints in Afghanistan. In 2011, I spent time with him when he attended The Sun’s Military Awards alongside William and he was a hugely popular figure, fun to be around and witty. Pudgy regal perv and ex-naval commander Andrew Mountbatten-Windsor must surely be in for a clipped shout, absolutely no sweat Credit: AFP In 1998, Diana’s brother said he’ll ‘never profit’ from her death Credit: Getty What the hell happened? He has demolished that legacy through misguided decisions and a stinking attitude. He certainly had his spare hands on the 2026 Upper Class Twit Of The Year trophy — until last week, when another utterly odious Uncle, Charles Spencer, barged in. There’s something of a family theme thing going on here, innit? Diana’s newly feminine-voiced brother, a surly old balloon-headed aristocad with a face like gammon and the spine of a salmon, must surely have bagged the title with his brass-necked interventions, deciding to rough up a 77-year-old pensioner with cancer. This is a beastly entitled toad who collects wedding rings like most of us commoners do Nectar points. If you want a true measure of this man, an Upper Class Twit of the nastiest kind, he tried it on with the wife of one of his (many) best men while her husband was in jail, whiich he denies. He apparently later received a damned good hiding. Sterling work, Darius Guppy. He is also alleged to have cheated on his anorexic and pregnant first wife yet has stepped from his, naturally, inherited gilded cage as some self-appointed moral arbiter and now CEO of Diana.Inc. Nice guy. And in a rather awks, newly surfaced 1998 interview he proffered: “Can you imagine anybody making a profit out of their brother or sister’s death? I mean it’s so low it’s inconceivable. I’ll never profit from Diana’s death.” Bullied at school, Spencer this weekend also griped that he felt the media poked too much into publicity whores Harry and Meghan’s private lives. Spencer accused Charles of being ‘giddily elated’ in the wake of Diana’s death Credit: AFP Spencer this weekend also griped that he felt the media poked too much into publicity whores Harry and Meghan’s private lives Credit: Splash Not the minutest hint of irony, not one tiny particle or teeny iota of self-awareness, as he whinged on during a high-profile BBC interview, while promoting his salacious memoir, which is being serialised in the Daily Mail. The Mail has, of course, just trousered tens of millions off his nephew after his failed legal claim. Perhaps the blood money payment Spencer is receiving from them could be deducted from Harry’s somewhat substantial bill. Rather than write such a book, why didn’t the Earl take a row across to the island on his Althorp estate where Diana rests and perhaps have a little boogie? I say, there is jolly well no question that the 183rd Upper Class Twit Of The Year title can only be awarded to Charles Spencer. Bravo, old bean. BACK HEROIC CREWS HENRY BLOGG is the most decorated lifeboatman in the history of the Royal National Lifeboat Institution. The Norfolk RNLI legend was based in Cromer and served for 53 years on the town’s emergency boats. He and his brave crews saved 873 lives before retirement in 1947 and he was awarded the George Cross. Many of those missions took place under darkness, the identities and nationalities of those they were to save, a mystery. Now the beloved British institution and its members have come under attack for picking up migrants from small boats in trouble, with some stopping their donations. RNLI lifeboats were called on by the coastguard and launched 9,058 times last year – 109 of those launches were to those in distress in the Channel, representing 1.2 per cent of the RNLI’s total rescue work. And 95 per cent of small boats were picked up by the UK Border Force in 2025, nothing to do with the RNLI. Henry Blogg didn’t check where those in distress came from. He put his own life at risk and did his job, leading hundreds to safety, whoever they were. And that is exactly what non-political RNLI volunteers do today – so support them. Don’t be a knob, be more Henry Blogg and less Tommy Rob. Brilliantly screwed up, just like the Nineties Ged Eccles, top left, triumphed at the World Gurning Championship Credit: Reuters THE world gurning championship has taken place in Cumbria, with pug-faced Ged Eccles, top left, triumphing, his crumpled napper resembling that of comedian Bill Bailey after being squashed several times by an Audi Q7. I adore such quintessentially English customs, this one dating back to 1267 and celebrating our nation’s most marvellous misshapen mugs. Viewing such twisted and haunted expressions, I was strangely reminded of the Ministry Of Sound dancefloor, circa 1994. BRAINS TRUST OXFORD United apologised and had to withdraw merchandise featuring the words “United 93” which coincided with the 25th anniversary of 9/11. Then Archbishop of Canterbury Dame Sarah Mullally had to withdraw an award for Muslim cleric Hafiz Muhammad Tahir Mehmood Ashrafi, because he had praised Bin Laden. Memo: Brain cells are neurons which make up the functional tissue of the brain. Perhaps allow somebody in possession of at least one of these to sign off your witless, misguided schemes. IT’S NIL POINTS FOR UK A parliamentary panel will spend months shining a light on Britain’s lacklustre performance in Eurovision Credit: AFP OUR lawmakers decree they must convene at the earliest opportunity to debate and investigate a burning issue at the forefront of the British public’s minds. Cost of living? Spiralling borrowing? Mansion tax? The spectre of war with Russia? Our rivers bubbling with the nation’s ordure? Nay. A parliamentary panel will spend months shining a light on Britain’s lacklustre performance in, wait for it, the Eurovision Flippin’ Song Contest. Aye. With a straight face, chair of the Digital, Culture, Media and Sport Committee, Dame Caroline Dinenage, said it would examine “whether our dismal record in recent years is the result of bad song choice, weak performance or something else”. Do we care? Ooh Ahh… Not A Little Bit. WORTH A BOB? A PAIR of grey and balding, stubble-faced men of a certain age, each with a penchant for deep blue shirts, popped up on my feed this week, pontificating about their business acumen. First, Amazon founder Jeff Bezos blathering on with boasts about the billions of tax he pays and what a genius he is. Then, in contrast, a rather more modest Bob Mortimer announcing the launch of a new culinary invention – his catering slipper. It is basically a shoe stuffed with a chicken and onion filling. Now I’m no dragon in a den­ – but I’m Team Bob every time. TAX-SHY Monaco resident Sir Jim Ratcliffe preaches from his luxurious haven that the UK is “on the slide”. Sir Jim believes a once-great international institution celebrated around the world has dropped down the wealth league tables and fallen into decline, with high earners and big names quitting to move to more alluring countries. And as owner of Manchester United, I guess we must take him at his word.