A is for ABBA. Meghan and I were married in 2018. There was so much love. The whole world rejoiced. But the four members of Abba - I’m not going to name them - refused to reach out. They didn’t say a word, and refused to sing at our reception. Sadly, they’d been silenced.

B is for BRIAN MAY. I was all ready with my guitar on the roof of the Palace and I’d been practicing for ages but then Brian May barged past and started to play. My father’s silence was deafening.

C is for CORGIS. It’s basically the corgis who rule the Palace. Nothing goes on without their say-so. When I was six, a corgi barked at me. No, I can’t say which one, because there was this massive cover-up orchestrated by a special committee chaired by a senior family corgi. They ended up briefing the press that I had barked at the corgi. It’s so unfair.

D is for DUMPTY, HUMPTY. Believe me, the Palace was behind it, 100%. Their silence was deafening.

E is for EDINBURGH, DUKE OF. I’ll never forget the day of grandpa’s funeral. William wouldn’t let me have a sherbet lemon. I said give it. He said shan’t. I said give it. He said shan’t. I said give it. He said shan’t. I said, I’ll put it in my book. He said, you’ll never. So I did. But they took it out of context.

F is for FROSTBITE ON MY PENIS. How did it get into my book? Just think about it. Too right. My penis leaked it to the tabloid press.

G is for PRINCE GEORGE. I genuinely believe and hope that there will be reconciliation between my family and myself that will have a ripple effect across the entire world but not until Prince George makes a full public apology for breaking a Mr Wobbly toy I gave him for his second birthday. I had put so much love into selecting that present and then wrapping it up, and to see it destroyed was…well, I really don’t want to go there. Let’s just say it left me in a very dark place.

H is for HITLER. Adolf suffered from unconscious bias, just like some others I could name.

I is for IPANEMA, THE GIRL FROM. Tall and tan and young and lovely, the girl from Ipanema took my virginity in a pub forecourt without asking. Yes, I may have put this in my book, but under direct orders from the Palace, the press took it totally out of context, and conspired to make it look as though she took my virginity in a pub forecourt without asking.

J is for JACK AND JILL. Sure, Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch a pail of water, and I have a lot of compassion for that. Then Jack fell down and broke his crown and Jill came tumbling after. Or that was the distorted narrative the rest of the world was offered? The truth is that Jack had said some very hurtful things to me and Jill had refused to lend Meghan her lipgloss.

K is for KATE. See under de Vil, Cruella.

M is for MIDGES. Staying at Balmoral, I had just taken a few shots of Tequila and smoked a few joints when I saw a cloud of midges coming towards me. They looked as though they had something really important to tell me about, like, the universe. I truly believed I could form a bond with them. “Hey guys!” I said, “You look like you’re in a good place. Any wisdom to share with a young traveller just setting out on his own journey of healing?” But they didn’t say anything. They just bit me all over. I’ve since learnt that it was an orchestrated campaign.

O is for OBAMA. Meghan and I asked Barack and Michelle to a pot-roast in Montecito last week with Barry Manilow and Lionel Ritchie. Their people said they couldn’t make it. Forgiveness is 100% a possibility, but first they need to acknowledge the hurt they’ve caused.

P is for THE PRINCESS ROYAL. How are we gonna make this world a better place? That’s something Meghan and I are striving for, 24/7. There’s so much pain and suffering in the world, and it’s up to each and everyone of us to do something about it. But when I suggested to my Aunt Anne that she should move out of Gatecombe Park to somewhere smaller and more in line with her status as a minor royal and let Meg and me use it as our own home and World Wellness Center she said something very hurtful.

Q is for QUEEN ELIZABETH II. She had such deep, deep respect for me, and that’s what I admire about her. The last time I saw her, she said it was her dying wish to fast-track me to the throne. “Let’s face it, Harry,” she said, “Your mental health is so much better than your papa’s or your brother’s, and Meghan will make a very caring, very loving Queen. So what are we waiting for, guys?” Then just as she was asking me for a pen and paper so she could change the line of succession, she passed away. But it was a private conversation, so I do not propose to discuss it here.

K is for KATE. See under de Vil, Cruella.

T is for TALIBAN. What I still can’t quite believe is that the Palace did absolutely nothing to stop the Taliban from shooting at me. In fact, their silence was deafening. Were they in league with senior Taliban leaders to stop me spreading my message of hope for the planet by blowing my head off? I honestly don’t know, but if there’s going to be any chance of reconciliation, then let’s have that conversation, guys.

W is for WILLIAM. And another thing. He still owes me for that apple I gave him 26 years, five months, two weeks and one day ago. I asked for it back at granny’s funeral, but he just said “What apple?” and looked straight through me. So I fled the country.

X is for XI JINGPING. We asked Xi over for a barbecue with James Corden and Serena Williams the other day, but his people said he was busy. You guessed it. The Palace had been getting to him.

Y is for YO-YO. I was a child of six. I kept throwing that yo-yo away. But it kept coming back. Throwing away. Coming back. Throwing away. Coming back. I thought, if you want to do that, then do it. But don’t ask me to join in. That’s not who I am.

Z is for ZEBEDEE. All the figures in the so-called Magic Roundabout were acting under direct orders from my stepmother. But the worst was Zebedee. Whatever I did, he kept bouncing back.

Craig Brown is a columnist for the Daily Mail and the author of One Two Three Four: The Beatles in Time