EDITOR’S NOTE: This article is very obviously SATIRE.

Australia has weathered many royal curiosities: monarchs who won’t visit, Governors-General who occasionally overreach, and the lingering national trauma of Charles III’s pen-leaking meltdown. But nothing – absolutely nothing – has prepared us for Sarah Ferguson’s latest gambit: the implicit threat that she might, at any moment, go rogue and tell all.

This is not merely a royal wobble. It’s a (former) Duchess-Level Event, the kind of destabilisation that forces Buckingham Palace to activate the Fergie Containment Unit – an elite squad armed with NDAs, chamomile tea, a chequebook, and a stack of her previous autobiographies ready for tactical pulp fiction distraction. (The Fergie Memoir Cinematic Universe now has more instalments than The Crown has historically inaccurate subplots.)

Because Fergie, in her indefatigable entrepreneurial spirit, has never met a scandal she couldn’t monetise. Weight-loss programs? Tick. Lifestyle brand? Tick. Pay-for-access sting? Tick – with gusto. Australians should brace for her next innovation: FergieLeaks, the world’s first subscription-based royal whistle-blowing platform, where grievances drop weekly like a prestige drama.

And now the duchess has potentially signalled – softly, dramatically, like a Bond villain who’s recently discovered mindfulness – that she could reveal the truth about the Royal Family. The whole truth. A full-spectrum detonation of (former) duchess-grade intelligence.

Naturally, this raises unsettling questions.

What exactly does she know?

• That King Charles occasionally experiments with Darjeeling?
• That Princess Anne once muttered, ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake!’ at a corgi?
• That certain royals’ understanding of consequences remains largely theoretical?
• Or – far more likely – that Fergie believes humanity is spiritually and commercially craving another 900-page memoir about her heroic struggle to be placed slightly off-centre in official photos.

What juicy scandal remains untapped?

Even Prince William reportedly took the news in the traditional Cambridge manner: a brief tightening of the jaw, followed by staring stoically into middle distance.

Queen Camilla, meanwhile, is said to have responded with her trademark raised eyebrow – an expression roughly translating to: ‘Do I look like I care?’

Australia, normally distracted by its own constitutional vaudeville, may not appreciate the magnitude of this threat. Monarchists are quietly praying. Republicans are drafting referendum questions. Sky News Australia has already scheduled an eight-person panel titled, Fergie Unfiltered: Threat or Menace?

In London, MI5 has allegedly created a ginger colour-coded Fergie Threat Index, ranging from Minor Nuisance to Full Oprah. The current setting: Ceremonial Chaos.

Let’s not pretend Fergie’s intentions are subtle. This entire ‘don’t push me or I’ll reveal all’ routine carries the unmistakable scent of a Netflix pitch. One imagines her proposing:

‘The Crown: The Fergie Cut – eight episodes, all about me, with optional interpretive dance.’

Palace insiders report that, given cost-cutting measures, the official royal crisis-response plan now consists of one lukewarm cup of herbal tea and a polite request for Sarah to reconsider. Historians may one day call this The Great (former) Duchess Gambit – the only instance of a royal threatening detonation while wearing a fascinator.

The royal corgis, seasoned veterans of palace turbulence, have apparently been briefed to brace for impact. They have survived worse – namely, Prince Andrew attempting small talk.

As for the King, officials fear that if Fergie truly detonates, His Majesty may need immediate relocation to one of his organic gardens. Secure pen-handling protocols may also be reintroduced.

Meanwhile, The Tabloids are preparing special supplements titled, Everything We Already Knew But Will Pretend Is New.

And here in Australia, the republic debate has found new life. Should Fergie unleash her truth bombs, Australians may finally unite behind one of two options: become a republic or appoint her Governor-General just to keep the entertainment flowing.

In the end, we can only watch. We can only wait. Because when Sarah Ferguson threatens to tell all, one thing is certain: it will be long, it will be eccentric, and it will absolutely be serialised in the Daily Mail.

God save the King.

And God help the editors because nothing will save Andrew Windsor Mountbatten.