Just when it seems Meghan Markle has exhausted every avenue for self-promotion, she pulls another stunt so absurd it feels straight out of a satirical sitcom.
The latest? She has reportedly purchased beekeeping suits for Prince Harry, Archie, and Lilibet. This revelation comes from her personal beekeeper and follows the now-infamous post about her supposed love of beekeeping—an image many found questionable. And now, here we are, with one of the most unintentionally hilarious clapbacks yet. Picture the scene: Meghan, dressed in a spotless beekeeping suit, marveling at the mere existence of bees as if she has just discovered a new species. She gasps in amazement, giggling, wide-eyed, pointing out details as if narrating a children's documentary.
“Oh wow, look at them! That one has orange pollen in its pocket! That one’s carrying yellow! What are they doing?” The endless stream of wonder, the breathy exclamations—it’s as if she’s a teenager experiencing something for the very first time. Yet, this is the same woman who has been accused of treating staff, family members, and even pets with cold indifference. And now, suddenly, she’s whispering sweet nothings to a colony of bees?
Her beekeeper insists Meghan has never been stung, which makes sense—she’s never actually around them. This isn’t about beekeeping; it’s about trying (and failing) to outshine the Princess of Wales, who genuinely tends to her own hives at Anmer Hall. Meghan, in contrast, has a paid beekeeper who does the actual work while she shows up for carefully staged photo opportunities. Even Netflix admitted that the beekeeping footage included in her series wasn’t filmed at her home. It’s all just another performance.
For someone nearing 44, Meghan’s tendency to adopt the mannerisms of a giddy teenager is puzzling. From her fixation on youthful aesthetics to the exaggerated way she speaks, it’s almost as if she’s deliberately mimicking much younger women. The evidence of her staged beekeeping is undeniable. In one screenshot from her Netflix cooking series, she’s seen handling honey with zero protective gear—no gloves, no headnet, no smoker, and, most tellingly, not a single visible bee. Anyone with even basic knowledge of beekeeping knows that disturbing a hive during honey harvesting would trigger a swarm. And yet, Meghan’s bees, seemingly aware of her celebrity status, must have decided to take the day off.
A real beekeeper pointed out that attempting to harvest honey in the open without protection is a recipe for disaster. All it takes is one bee catching the scent of honey, returning to the hive, and informing the others—before absolute chaos erupts. Perhaps this is why Meghan and her beekeeper donned the full suits, not out of necessity, but purely for the aesthetic. It’s all part of her ongoing act—put on the costume, take a few pictures, then move on to the next meticulously crafted persona.
Everything Meghan does appears to be a second-rate imitation of someone more accomplished. The list is endless—beekeeping, seemingly inspired by Catherine; a Netflix show title reportedly lifted from Pamela Anderson; a stylish home rented just for appearances; cooking scenes staged for optics; even her honey-drizzling technique, executed with unnecessary flair as if she were performing abstract art rather than preparing food. With all the wealth and resources at her disposal, it’s almost remarkable how consistently she falls short.
At the core of it all, Meghan Markle is neither a beekeeper nor a chef, nor even a genuinely relatable public figure. She is, above all else, a performer—someone who curates every detail of her image to create the illusion of depth and talent. The real issue isn’t that she hired a beekeeper; it’s that she couldn’t just admit she found beekeeping interesting and wanted to learn. Instead, she had to play the role of the ultimate beekeeper, the most devoted and effortlessly skilled to ever exist. But, like so many of her other attempts at reinvention, this one, too, rings hollow.
