There is something uniquely nauseating about watching a man who was born into a literal palace, whose every meal has been prepared by a servant whose name he likely doesn’t know, standing in a witness box to complain that life is unfair. Prince Harry, the Duke of Sussex—or as he’s known in the halls of professional self-pity, the 'Spare'—has decided to descend from his Californian heights to grace the High Court in London with his grievances against the Mirror Group Newspapers. It is a clash of the titans, if by 'titans' you mean a man who thinks his therapist is a deity and a tabloid industry that considers ethics a mild suggestion for people without deadlines.

For the first time in over 130 years, a senior member of the British Royal Family is testifying in court. This isn’t a moment of historical gravitas, however; it’s a high-stakes episode of a reality show that refuses to be canceled. Harry is suing MGN over allegations of phone hacking and other unlawful information gathering. Let us be clear: the British tabloid press is a collective of bottom-feeding scavengers that would sift through a toxic waste dump if they thought it contained a used napkin with a royal’s DNA on it. They represent the very worst of the human impulse to peer through keyholes. They hacked phones, they bribed officials, and they turned harassment into a business model. They are the rot in the floorboards of the British establishment, and seeing them dragged into the light is almost—almost—gratifying.

But then, we have the plaintiff. Harry wants us to believe he is a crusader for truth, a knight in shining armor taking on the dragons of Fleet Street to protect the sanctity of privacy. This is the same man who recently released a multi-hundred-page memoir detailing his frostbitten anatomy and private conversations with his family for a staggering advance. The irony is so thick you could choke on it. He claims to loathe the limelight while simultaneously shining a 10,000-watt spotlight on his own insecurities for a Netflix check. He wants to be a private citizen, yet he treats his internal monologue like a seasonal product launch. This isn't a battle for justice; it's a custody battle for the narrative. He doesn't want the press to stop talking about him; he just wants to be the one holding the pen and cashing the royalties.

The Mirror Group’s defense is equally pathetic, a masterclass in corporate obfuscation. They admit to some instances of wrongdoing but argue that Harry’s claims are brought too late or lack sufficient evidence. It’s the legal equivalent of a thief saying, 'Yes, I stole your car, but you didn't notice for a week, so technically it's mine now.' They are defending their right to be parasitic under the guise of 'public interest,' a phrase that has been stretched so far it no longer has any meaning. The public isn't interested in the truth; the public is interested in the spectacle of a prince being humiliated, and the tabloids are more than happy to provide the front-row seats.

As Harry takes the stand, we are forced to endure the tedious deconstruction of 147 articles published between 1996 and 2010. We are invited to relive the minutiae of a privileged life—who he was dating, where he was partying, which club he was falling out of. It is a monumental waste of judicial resources. While the world burns, while the economy teeters on the brink of collapse, and while actual human rights abuses occur globally, the British legal system is occupied with deciding if a tabloid used 'blagging' to find out what Harry had for lunch in 2004. It is the pinnacle of first-world narcissism, a psychodrama played out in a courtroom that should be reserved for matters of actual consequence.

The truth is that neither side deserves to win. If Harry wins, he becomes the insufferable martyr-king of the victimhood movement, emboldened to sue anyone who looks at him sideways. If the tabloids win, they are vindicated in their pursuit of human misery as a commodity. The only real losers are the rest of us, the captive audience forced to watch this internecine warfare between two different brands of elitist garbage. We are the ones paying for the security, the court time, and the cultural oxygen consumed by this farce. In the end, the Duke will fly back to his mansion, the tabloids will print another dozen stories about his testimony to recoup their legal fees, and the cycle of mutual parasitism will continue unabated. It is a closed loop of stupidity, and we are all stuck in the middle of it.