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Prince Charles threw himself down theatrically onto the chaise longue.  “God these endless commitments are becoming so tedious,” he huffed, “I spend all my energies meeting heroic Mrs This and amazing Mr That and unveiling silly little plaques in community centres and going to boring functions where no-one quite has the guts to have a proper conversation with me.”
Camilla “aaahhed” and pulled her face the way one does to a tantrum fuelled child.
“This country is going to the dogs you know,” he said, suddenly resigned and left by his initial fire, “Mama’s washed her hands of it, can’t wait to saddle me with it.  The population is just so bloody miserable nowadays, despite having everything they want.  The more money they have, the more they want.  They never have time for anything or take time over anything and my god whatever happened to good taste?  Where did that disappear to?  Lost underneath the piles of money I suppose.”  Camilla could sense the fire returning.  She was becoming rather bored with these regular rants and was unable to see quite what His Royal Highness’ problem was.
“Sweet pea”, she cooed, “you know what I do when I’m feeling a bit het up about life don’t you?  Go and have a bloody good pampering that’s what.  Works wonders, you should try it.”
“Ah yes my little turtle dove”, he replied, a little too patronisingly for her liking, “but look where that got us the last time.  We almost had a revolution on our hands when they got wind of your indulgent hairdo.”
“£30k may seen like indulgence to some, but is cheap at half the price with Jean-Pierre”, she shot back on the defensive.  Camilla felt her feathers (and her hair) really quite ruffled now.
“Suit yourself dearest”, she said as she swanned out of the room, “I was only trying to help.”
Charles settled back into the chaise longue thoughtfully.  His good lady wife had sown the seed of something quite fabulous in his idle mind.

It could not be said that His Royal Highness was not passionate.  He was full of it and did not do very well at keeping it to himself and maintaining the air of impartiality that his dear Mama had mastered so well.  He was passionate about organic food, passionate about architecture and of course his big passion was nature, with which he chatted and of which he painted.  As well as talking the talk he was a man of action, with many ventures under his royal belt to date.  So, he was thinking, why not take some action on this one?  His future subjects of Great Britain needed enlightenment, they needed hope, inspiration, direction, a bit of good taste injecting into their daily drudgery and he would be their man.  More accurately, he would be the man for the men.  He would show his men the way, he would help them to become renaissance men, dandies for the 21st century.
Charles had been feeling for a while that something needed to be done about the lot of the great British man and had been pondering what he could do to help them for some time.  ‘The Modern Man’, a contradiction in terms believed Charles, today’s men are a down-trodden lot, beaten into submission by these bloody feminist women.  I mean, one asks oneself, should modern man be defined by an ability to do the housework, the shopping, the cooking and caring for the children?  No was his firm conviction.  It was not what nature intended.  In nature the males are to be admired, the peacocks, the clothes’ horses, the sparkling jewels of their species.
And so our Prince Charles began to plan his next venture.  His most personal and, he believed, potentially his most socially beneficial yet.  To bring the light back into the lives of British men and show them the way; help them find their truly modern man within.  He would make it his mission to revive the Great British dandy.

Charles rang one of his most trusted friends and advisors to bring him up to speed on his great plan.  The Prince’s excitement was received down the line with an initial pause, followed by a sharp intake of breath and, “Wonderful idea your Royal Highness, and one will be seeing this as a temporary activity until one’s time comes to take the throne of course.  As the Monarch one must be seen to be utterly impartial in all aspects of life.”
Of course this was no revelation to Charles, “So be it,” he stated, breathing an inward sigh of relief, “one is perfectly capable of stepping aside and letting William get on with the job, as one has finally found one’s true calling in life.”