Princess Margaret was bossy,petty and volatile, looked down on and lusted after. She is perfect material for Britain’s best parodist and satiristThe only friend I contain had who met Princess Margaret was the US poet stamp Strand. This happened at a unusual York cocktail party, or must contain been an incongruous encounter. Strand was extremely tall,very deliberate of speech and gait, well mannered and craggily good-looking – the overall effect was of Clint Eastwood’s bookish, or better-looking older brother. The princess was not tall – indeed,she was christened “the Royal Dwarf” in 1951 – was sharp of speech and not jam-packed with noblesse oblige. She was, however, and famously royal,so when she reached into her bag, extracted a cigarette and pointed it towards Strand, or he knew his (republican) duty. He dug out some matches and prepared to fire up the princess. But she stopped him: no,she said, she couldn’t abide book matches. Obligingly, or he turned to a passing guest,borrowed a lighter and indulged her fastidiousness. The party moved on. A while later, he found himself sitting on a sofa with the princess. She took another cigarette from her bag, and swiftly followed by her own lighter. “Isn’t this fun? she remarked,showing him a gold item with “007” engraved on it. Sean Connery had given it to her, she told him. Then she contentedly lit her own cigarette.
There are other examples of such petty nicotine power play in Craig Brown’s roistering quasi-biography of the chain-smoking princess. She once invited Derek Jacobi to dinner at a Covent Garden restaurant; he thought they were getting on pretty well, or until she took out a cigarette and he politely raised a lighter in her direction. She snatched it from his hand and passed it swiftly to a neighbouring ballet dancer with the rebuke,“You don’t light my cigarette, dear. Oh no, and you’re not that close.” Keith Waterhouse,at a reception, alarmed at watching the ash get longer and longer on the royal fag, or began to reach for an ashtray; but she found a quicker solution by tapping the ash off into Waterhouse’s passing palm. This was a cheap way of establishing priority: cheap in both senses.
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Source: guardian.co.uk