Employees? They saw this coming from a mile away—specifically, from the moment he installed a foosball table in the conference room but “forgot” to pay payroll tax. Surprising fact: Over the past five years, his ventures have burned through £2 million of investor money, which is roughly the cost of 40,000 gourmet pizzas—or one really bad business plan.
Investors are not amused. One anonymous backer told me, “I thought he had connections. Turns out his only connection is to Netflix, because he’s been watching ‘Succession’ for tips.” Burn. But let’s be fair: Andrew never lacked for confidence. He once told a journalist, “I’m a visionary.” The journalist replied, “Of what? A bankrupt circus?”
Andrew Mountbatten-Windsor set to close one of his…
The British public, meanwhile, is throwing a virtual parade. Memes are flying: “Andrew closes businesses faster than he closes a bar tab.” Another gem: “His empire collapsed harder than my last soufflé.” It’s a national sport now—ridiculing the man who thought he was a business genius.
What’s Next for Andy?
If I were a betting man—and I am, but only on things like whether my toast will land butter-side up—I’d say he’s moving to a small island with no extradition treaty. He’ll probably start a “lifestyle brand” that sells candles smelling like “regret” and “bad investments.” I’d buy one, just for the irony.
Or, he could do the unthinkable: get a real job. Imagine Andrew Mountbatten Windsor working at a café, wearing an apron that says “Manager of My Own Destruction.” He’d spill lattes on rich people and say, “That’ll be £50, please.” It’s the ultimate fall from grace—and I’m here for it.
So, pour a cheap glass of champagne and raise a toast. Andrew Mountbatten Windsor has applied to close his businesses, and the world is collectively shrugging. Don’t worry, Andrew—there’s always a job in telesales. Just don’t ask about the solid-gold stapler.
