An everyday story of the unimaginably privileged Another exciting week for the young royals: that adorable band of blue bloods forever keen to stress that all they want is an ordinary life, while grabbing every privilege that comes their way with their white-knuckled, Windsor fists. advertisement Click to learn more... First, Prince Harry takes on "Terry Taliban and his mates" and survives third-degree burns from repeated intense bursts of camera flash in the Helmand Province. He also manages to avoid being "slotted" and enjoys just "being one of the lads". Meanwhile, his cousin Princess Eugenie celebrates her 18th birthday by giving her first media interview to a glossy magazine, bits of which were extracted in The Daily Telegraph. In time-honoured tradition, Eugenie poses on the magazine cover in silk and emeralds, while taking the usual trouble to stress how normal she is. "One of my best friends jokingly says, 'Hi, Princess,' and I say 'Shut up.' It is one of the things that bugs me most in the world," she sighs. Her plight is too sad for words. Meanwhile, back in the desert, Harry is facing the Muslim hordes with all the bravado of someone inside a doughnut of SAS bodyguards, encased in a circle of 100 kukri-wielding Gurkhas prepared to lay down their lives to protect the Queen's beloved grandson. Some see the deployment of the Prince in a war zone as an act of foolishness engineered to indulge his wishes at the expense of the rank and file who were, and continue to be, put at additional risk by his presence there. It is hard to argue with that, or the cordite whiff of publicity stunt that continued to cling to Harry after his journey back to Britain. "I'm no hero," said the Prince. "The real heroes are the lads on the plane with me who have lost their limbs." He was right, so where was the welcoming committee for those poor, maimed soldiers? Where were the cameras to hear their tales of derring-do in the desert dust? Nowhere to be seen, of course. The Army never wants the bloody reality of true military sacrifice displayed on the teatime news, or anywhere else, thanks all the same. What they want is Harry, grinning like a kid and roaring on about how brilliant it was, rubbish tucker and all. He certainly seemed to blossom and grow during his Army adventure, expanding vertically and horizontally before our very eyes. It was a kind of physical magic - which brings us back to Princess Eugenie, and her rapturous introduction to society. In times gone by, aristocratic young ladies were presented at court on their 18th birthdays. Now they are presented to the public via the prism of obsequious magazines, whose love affair with the Royal Family is unblemished by critical thought or deed. "She's almost like a young Audrey Hepburn," squealed the Tatler writer. Don't you just love the strain of that almost? It is also almost certain that Harry won't be returning to a war zone any time soon, so don't hold your breath.