The world is captivated by the possibility, albeit seeming distant at the moment, that Andrew Mountbatten-Windsor could be summoned before the U.S. Congress to address inquiries related to the Jeffrey Epstein scandal. Reports suggest that the King himself believes this accountability is necessary.

However, attention seems to have shifted away from Andrew’s former wife, Sarah Ferguson, who is emerging as a figure of concern in her own right.

Once a jet-setting figure, Ferguson, known as Fergie, has long been associated with a luxurious lifestyle that far exceeded her means. Notably, she maintained close ties with Epstein even after his conviction, going so far as to introduce her teenage daughters to his infamous circle.

Due to her connections with the disgraced Andrew, Ferguson has found herself distanced from the royal family. Her charitable patronages have been revoked, her latest book has been withdrawn by her publisher, and she is no longer sought after for endorsements. Her current whereabouts remain uncertain.

This week, she expressed her plight, lamenting, “I need to get back to work—I need money!”

But too many have taken their eyes off Andrew’s ex-wife Sarah Ferguson , whom I believe to be a very dangerous woman now 

Now, the monarchy faces a new challenge: the prospect of a financially struggling and potentially homeless Fergie, who, despite being 66, is visibly worn from her past troubles. It is feared she may be planning to sell her royal narrative to the highest bidder.

Why, she must be thinking, shouldn’t she just ‘do a Harry’ and expose all the dirty secrets of the family she’s known for decades, since she met Andrew when they were both children?

Remember, Harry got a £16million advance for his own tawdry memoir that did so much to damage the royals, and millions more on publication from global sales. He and Meghan’s Netflix series is reported to have coined them £75million as they dished even more dirt on their own flesh and blood.

Harry called his book Spare – self-pitying Fergie’s title would surely be: I Despair.

And publishers and streaming giants would pay a king’s ransom for her story.

Let me guess: she’d claim she was always a victim, an innocent abroad, caught up unawares in a world of paedophile sex-trafficking, and with no idea why her ex-husband has been repeatedly pictured pawing at young women, some of them teenagers.

Millions worldwide would devour Fergie’s story – myself included.

Why, she must be thinking, shouldn’t she just ‘do a Harry’ and expose all the dirty secrets of the family she’s known for decades, since she met Andrew when they were both children?

What else could she tell us? She’s always kept her counsel about the kind of man Andrew truly is – now she might feel she has nothing left to lose. Are the Royals really racist, as Meghan and Harry insinuated? Was the late Queen always the saint we took her for – or a mother blinded by her love for her favourite younger son, whose alleged £12million payment to Epstein victim Virginia Giuffre she supposedly partly funded?

What about Fergie’s famous rivalry with Diana? What did she really know about Charles’s infidelities with Camilla? What about her infamous clashes with Prince Philip, or her true thoughts on the heir to the Throne and his wife Kate?

You thought there was nothing left to know about the secrets of the House of Windsor? Don’t believe it for a second.

Now Fergie, who’s always greedily chased money and lived way beyond her means, may feel she has no choice.

The monarchy is deep in crisis. The toxic fallout from the Andrew saga is poisoning the whole institution, while William aimlessly plants trees in Saudi, Kate is all but invisible after her illness and the King is still battling cancer. Anne, Sophie and Edward are trying to keep the show on the road, but there’s only so much they can do.

Fergie is a loose cannon aimed squarely at the royal ramparts. The only question is: how much money will she demand before she lights the fuse – and fires?

A sublimely beautiful Angelina Jolie, below, arrives at the premiere of her new movie Couture, about a filmmaker in Paris who has cancer.

Angelina Jolie attends the ‘Coutures’ Premiere at Pathe Palace on February 09, 2026

It comes hot on the heels of Kate Winslet’s latest film Goodbye June about a mother dying of the disease.

Enough already.

Why don’t they make happy movies any more? I’ve had cancer and lost my brother to it – but the last thing I want is to watch a weepie about it.

Mick Jagger’s fiancée Melanie Hamrick was left ‘shaken, sad and heartbroken’ after being jostled by two muggers outside Annabel’s nightclub as she waited for a cab. Wrinkly Mick is worth £440 million, but he won’t even send a chauffeur to pick up the mother of his eighth child, a woman almost a third his age? Proof that he has always been the meanest, tightest man in showbiz.

Westminster Wars

After his passionate plea not to be deposed, I will leave it to three Guardian columnists who this week passed judgment on the PM. And I quote: ‘Not again! Starmer’s “reset button” is like that OK button on your TV remote – worn blank through overuse.’

‘Put him in front of a camera and Starmer fades to beige.’ And my favourite: ‘One essential truth about the man: there is less to him than meets the eye . . . His Cabinet ministers this week mouthed hostage-video messages of their boss’s achievements.’

When a Labour PM has lost the Leftie Guardian, what hope has he got?

Prince William plants an acacia tree on the third day of his first official visit to Saudi Arabia

Oh dear. As the reputation of the Royal Family implodes, a sweaty Prince William plants a sapling in the Saudi desert, looking not like a King-in-waiting but, er… a sap. 

The Government is publishing guidance for schools to help children ‘socially transition’, so they can change names, pronouns and clothes to live as their ‘chosen gender’. Jolly good, but pity the teachers: how are they supposed to remember Jack is now Jenny? If they get it wrong, they’ll be off to the headmaster. Maybe they should just call all kids ‘they/them’.

Author Louise Atkinson was charged £2,800 for an MRI scan for her dog Willa, when it’s £350 for humans. Why? Most vet practices are run by private equity firms, aka ‘locusts’, as they devour everything in their path for profit. Cynical? Of course. As I look at my beloved old moggy Ted, I know I’d pay anything to keep him well. 

Careful what you wish for

Rumours swirl there’s trouble ahead for Lewis Hamilton and Kim Kardashian. 

He doesn’t want to be a father or stepdad to her four children. Kim says she ‘manifested’ Lewis (that’s a girlie thing where we ask the spirits to deliver us a boyfriend), with the universe telling her: ‘If you build it, he will come.’ Uh-oh, Kim. 

That’s the line from Kevin Costner’s Field of Dreams when he reunites with his dead dad.

Critics have been scathing about Simon Cowell’s new boyband December 10, whose first effort reached No 72 in the charts. Many in the business say their manufactured vibe isn’t cool any more – nor is Simon, a fake-tanned guy in his 60s with funny teeth and tight T-shirts. At this rate, they’ll be gone by December 10. 

I suspect millions like me have barely watched the Winter Olympics except to see Norwegian biathlete Sturla Holm Laegreid blubbing as he begged his girlfriend to forgive him for cheating. Crikey, if every Olympic athlete who cheated on his missus hogged the post-race TV interviews, we’d miss out on the only bits worth watching: when they crash. 

Katie P’s rise to national treasure

We may mock – and, yes, some of us have – but is it time to reconsider Katie Price as a national treasure?

Proudly parading her ginormous, gravity-defying fake bosom and ‘bubble butt’ on holiday, she’s a happy newlywed to hot hubby Lee Andrews, with a smile on her face and almost certainly a Netflix series on the boil.

Katie always gets the last laugh – usually, and endearingly, at herself.

Colman’s nonsense

Can I be the only one thoroughly sick of seeing Olivia ‘one facial expression’ Colman?

Now the Crown actress is promoting her new film Jimpa, in which she plays the mother of a ‘non-binary’ child.

Dour, downcast, dogged Olivia claims she has always ‘described herself’ to her husband of 25 years as a gay man.

The utter nonsense these actors come up with promoting their dud movies. Spoiler alert: at least in The Night Manager she was put out of our misery.