Cutting Edge: The Prince Charles Generation (Channel 4)

The idea, advanced by The Prince Charles Generation, that the Prince of Wales had had a “parallel life” with the other gentlemen born on the same day, was — quite besides their shared life span — ludicrous. Yes, the Prince and the men were the same age; they were, um, men, they had experienced marriage, they were white. There the similarities ended. One is in line to assume the throne (at the rate things are going, for about 15 minutes tops), the others are not. However, this was still a great documentary: a bubbling stew of dreams, disappointments and hopes fulfilled and shattered.

The men had always felt connected to Charles. Because they shared a birth date they received many of the gifts — teaspoons and a lot of food, including split peas and grapefruit juice — sent to Charles when he was born. One man remembered receiving a blanket, “which came in useful in the dog’s basket”. Right at the beginning was perhaps one of the most surprising aspects of the documentary: none of the men was jealous of the Prince. Neither were they deferential. They seemed thankful not to be him — though, like Charles, they all looked pretty damn good for 60.

We saw the young Prince on archive footage on his first day at boarding school. The TV announcer noted what a historic day it was: a Royal child was being educated alongside ordinary folk. This neatly sidestepped the glaring point that the other kids were far from ordinary; they were jolly rich and privileged.

We saw him invested as Prince of Wales by his mother at that acid-trippy ceremony at Caernarfon Castle in 1969, the bevy of beautiful young woman who saw past the big ears and tortuous gait. We saw his abbreviated marriage to Diana — and that horrendous moment when they were asked whether they were in love and his unbelievably awful answer: “Whatever ‘in love’ means.” One of the interviewees said he knew Charles and Diana were ill-fated when he saw that. It does seem amazing that we ever thought they were a sweet couple: their visible nervousness in that broadcast is anything but sweet.

Once it had wisely stopped labouring the “parallels” with Charles’s life, the documentary sensitively unravelled the complicated twists and turns of the men’s lives. All remembered the straitened times after the war, the joy of seemingly endless days spent playing outside, their carefree teenage years: the hairstyles, tight jeans, girls. Responsibility crept up on them: by the age of 21 Stephen was the father of three children. He became a docker in Grimsby, was made redundant in the 1980s. Then he became self-employed, the recession almost sank him; now he is helping his wife battle her debilitating illness.

Sandy was a Scot who worked so hard in the financial sector that he had a nervous breakdown. Like Charles, John had a broken marriage behind him and now, nearing 60, had entered not only a new relationship but a new period of being a father. Michael Dobbs, the author, was the star: the Thatcher speechwriter turned bestselling novelist, proud of the way the former PM had transformed the country “mostly for the better”.

Ivor, bearded, kind and so beautiful as a young man, dropped out after school and lived in a tumbledown cottage being self-sufficient. He thought he had invented a special engine, only to discover that his invention had been patented years ago.

The programme ended with the men looking in the mirror. John said he didn’t feel as if he was in his sixties, but didn’t like being fat. Another guy was planning to move to the Philippines.

Someone else planned to retire somewhere sunny and, after a leisurely day on the golf course, to enjoy the local brothel. He considered Charles’s life ruefully: imagine never being able to do anything wrong, he said. The Prince’s age contemporaries were relishing the next few years. One said: “Life gives you wrinkles, not your 60th birthday.”

Credit Crash Britain: Money for Nothing (BBC Two)

Credit Crash Britain continued on its confusing path: last night it laboured the same point about credit cards — spend too much on them and you end up in trouble — over and over again.

The programme fretted over a number of stories that showed how credit card-dependant we had become. People spoke of the money not being visible and therefore easy to spend. The programme spoke to young people. They seemed like a dreary bunch of Saffys who would never live beyond their means. It was those in their fifties and sixties who had been living it up, frittering away all this invisible money on clothes and holidays — clearly not all wisdom comes with age.

Someone once cut through the cant of diets by writing: eat less, exercise more. Let’s do the same with this endless obsessing over “surviving the recession”: stop spending so much, live within your means, hide your money under the bed.

tim.teeman@thetimes.co.uk

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