In a stern memo leaked from the newly rebranded Crown Discipline Office (formerly “Buckingham Palace – Back Office”), the monarchy has issued its latest final final warning to Andrew Mountbatten-Windsor, the man once known as Prince Andrew before titles became optional accessories.

“Ten more scandals,” the document reads in crisp, disappointed Times New Roman, “and you’ll have to move into the £30 million terraced mansion we’ve shortlisted in a quiet Kensington mews. No grounds. No aviary. Shared driveway. Think of it as tough love with original Victorian features.”

Sources close to the situation—meaning anyone who’s ever skimmed a tabloid headline—confirm the terraced property boasts three reception rooms, a “compact” south-facing garden the size of a generous picnic blanket, and proximity to Waitrose. For a man accustomed to 30-room Georgian piles with police accommodation thrown in, this represents the royal equivalent of being sent to bed without supper, except the bed is a listed four-poster and supper is now self-catered.

The ultimatum arrives hot on the heels of Andrew’s recent relocation to a “transitional cottage” on the Sandringham Estate, following what palace insiders describe as “a minor misunderstanding involving fresh paperwork from across the pond.” Royal Lodge, his former 30-room grace-and-favour starter home, is now undergoing what is euphemistically called “re-purposing” – code for turning it into guest accommodation for more photogenic family members.

Insiders say the Crown’s patience, already stretched thinner than the late Queen’s corgis’ leads, snapped after the latest batch of Epstein-related documents surfaced, including what one courtier called “that unfortunate email chain about dinner reservations and introductions.” The palace’s new sliding scale of consequences is reportedly as follows:

• 1–3 scandals: polite requests to “reflect privately.”
• 4–6 scandals: temporary relocation to Norfolk outbuildings with Wi-Fi limitations.
• 7–9 scandals: Constant viewing of Meghan Markle’s “With Love, Meghan” canceled Netflix series.
• 10+ scandals: full downgrade to terraced mansion ownership, complete with council tax band G and a stern letter from the residents’ association about parking.

Andrew is said to be “considering his options,” which at this stage mostly involve staring at the ceiling of Wood Farm Cottage and wondering whether the Waitrose delivery van reaches Norfolk. Friends describe him as philosophical: “He’s always said real estate is about location, location, location. Kensington is certainly located somewhere.”

A palace spokesperson, speaking on condition of anonymity because everyone is these days, declined to comment on the specifics but noted that “the Crown remains committed to supporting all family members in finding accommodation appropriate to their current public standing.” Translation: behave, or it’s semi-detached purgatory.

Should the tenth scandal materialise—perhaps involving a misinterpreted text, another surprise friendship, or simply breathing too loudly in the wrong postcode—the family expects swift compliance. After all, £30 million still buys quite a lot of house in 2026 London, especially if you’re willing to forgo the helicopter pad and settle for a Zone 2 tube stop.

One senior courtier summed it up with the weary pragmatism that only centuries of inbreeding and headlines can produce: “We’ve tried grace and favour. Now we’re trying tough love. Next stop: actual mortgage applications.”

The Crown has spoken. The countdown is on. And somewhere in a terraced mansion’s future, a For Sale sign waits patiently.

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