Prince William, Prince Harry, Prince Andrew. As time goes by, they present as not quite the Three Wise Men of royal life, but increasingly like the Huey, Dewey and Louie of some grim caper; the imperial Bee Gees on eternal reprise, jive-talkers just trying to stay alive in a world they find increasingly hostile.

Two estranged brothers and a disgraced uncle, scrabbling for scraps at the royal banquet. With the best will in the world, they are hardly an inspiring bunch, are they?

Call it what you will, but the gilt is slowly peeling off this soured game of thrones, this line of succession in terminal recession. For every so often the three masks slip and we see these princes for who and what they really are: a trio of spoilt man-children who demand accountability from everyone else while doing as they please themselves, an unholy trinity who still can’t quite believe the age of deference is over.

Prince William is by far the best of them, not least because it is upon his shoulders that the burden of royal responsibility must lie. In his rather passive-aggressive way he has never made any secret of the fact that he finds this an onerous task, but who could blame him for brooding, or seeing his birthright as a velvet bind?

As his stricken father and recuperating wife keep out of the spotlight, this is William’s moment of truth. Yet instead of stepping up to the challenge, he seems to be all over the place. That ill-advised statement on the Israel-Hamas conflict for a start; now going awol from a royal event at short notice and without a proper explanation?

Prince Andrew, seizing the opportunity to insert himself, like a festering suppository, back into the pantomime donkey end of royal life, writes Jan Moir

It is all very odd. If William has a good reason for his absence, then he should tell us or even drop a comforting hint — the public would understand and sympathise. Of course he is entitled to a private life, but he is not some movie star bleating about privacy in a moment of crisis. He is the heir to the British throne — a man with a unique set of public responsibilities.

One day soon he will be the head of the nation, a focus for national identity, unity and pride. So maybe he should stop behaving like a celebrity flake and reign in that impervious attitude along with his indulgent fondness for obsessive secrecy. If this is a sign of what is to come when he ascends the throne, it is very worrying one.

Then there is Prince Andrew, seizing the opportunity to insert himself, like a festering suppository, back into the pantomime donkey end of royal life.

The sight of gleeful Andrew, cantering into King Constantine’s memorial service at Windsor with all the gravitas of a game-show host, was as unwelcome as it was unedifying.

Andrew has no shame because if he did, he would hide himself away from public life for ever. He would tend to his golf swing, to his chronic adrenaline deficiency problem and to his sweat pattern studies, instead of imposing his grisly presence, smoked with scandal, on to the Royal Family.

That would be the decent thing to do, but decency and Andrew are strangers to each other.

This week court documents revealed Prince Harry, pictured on a ski trip with Meghan in Canada last month, demanded to know the identity of whoever in government was responsible for downgrading his police protection

Prince William is by far the best of them, not least because it is upon his shoulders that the burden of royal responsibility must lie

Which brings us to the clown known as Prince Harry. This week court documents revealed that he demanded to know the identity of whoever in government was responsible for downgrading his police protection.

‘I would like that person’s name,’ he said, much in the manner of Tony Soprano, perhaps in dream sequence ruff and tights, putting the heat on Paulie Walnuts.

What was Harry going to do? Have said person brought to his royal chambers in a tumbril, thereupon to be tortured by being made to listen to Meghan’s latest podcast on compassion in action?

Behold Harry the Heavy, preparing to deliver a proverbial knuckle sandwich to the upstart serf who refused to deliver the security detail that he had demanded. How utterly pathetic this objectionable fool has become; a man who positions himself in public life as a glossy humanitarian, but in private will thwart anyone who dares to cross him or deny his desires.

‘Show Up, Do Good,’ is the glutinous motto on the Sussexes’ rebooted Archewell website. ‘Shut Up, Do What I Say’ would be a more honest and appropriate slogan.

Listen, boys. It is not too late to learn that having the word ‘Prince’ in front of your name is not merely a passport to a blackout on bulletins when the going gets tough, a free pass to the fleshpot island lair of a known sex abuser or a fast-track route to celebrity and millions of lovely Hollywood dollars — although it has clearly been all of these things and more.

Having the word Prince in front if your name brings more responsibilities, not fewer. And you would be doing all of us a favour — while honouring the memory of Queen Elizabeth, your loving grandmother and mother — if you remembered that, now and again.