There is a reason for everything and I’ve just nutted out why we’re besotted with Harry and Meghan and the like. They are our comfort food, our escape valve, our panic room if you will.

When the world is going to hell in a handcart they provide the weird, cheery alternative to death, destruction and all round misery.

This was the role that used to be played by radio comedy.

There was a time when you could wake up in the morning, twiddle the dial and some silly BBC show would be on.

It would be clever, witty and at times damned hilarious. Laugh? You’d almost die.

Now you wake up in the morning and turn on the radio and here’s what comes at you (tick whatever, if not all, is applicable).

Vladimir Putin gives go-ahead for nuclear bombing of Kiev.

Man in Klan hood guns down 80 children in Alabama day care centre.

Women accused of adultery stoned to death by bearded misogynists in Kabul.

North Korean missile goes astray, wipes out small Pacific island.

... and on and on and remorselessly on. I can barely remember a morning when good news has come up with the sunrise.

And here’s where Harry et al come into it. We need the Sussexes of the world to give us a hearty chuckle and light heart.

Harry and Meghan are top of the list, the crème de la crème as it were, but rapidly catching up are a couple of other claimants to the bonkers, self-indulgent title.

Hot on the royal (sort of) heels are the filthy-rich pair, Brooklyn Beckham and his wife Nicola Peltz Beckham, recently filmed for Vogue showing off what they wear in 7 days. No kidding.

First up they strike poses in matching bath robes then we are given a day by day range of clothing that looks not unlike something you’d wear to the pub for a pint and parmie, were it not for the fact we’re told the brown t-shirt cost around $800 and those boots come in at $1500.

Ms Peltz Beckham babbles away, waving fingernails so long she must be incapable of performing normal hand functions. Brooklyn just looks naff.

I was mesmerised by the banality but when Nicola trotted out a Valentino top I almost swooned.

I lust after Valentino. The nearest I ever got to one was a salon window on Capri which had the most gorgeous frock on show. I have a photo of me looking at it, covetousness writ large on my face.

Then there’s the Kardashians, perennial favourites with or without Kanye, and those good old troupers, Paris Hilton and Gwynneth Paltrow.

Soccer WAGS Rebekah Vardy and Colleen Rooney, last seen in a courtroom spat which must have landed their barristers stonking amounts of money.

And who can forget Dennis Rodman in North Korea with that prankster Kim Jong Un. They make our day, bless ‘em.

Without them the world looks a more dreary, more depressing place. Vlad or Harry? No contest.