I put the news at 6pm on. I expected a one liner: "She's had a boy, 7lbs 3oz (or whatever), mother and baby both OK". Then on to "41 people died in a plane crash in Moscow"; "Judd Trump has one hand on the world snooker championship"; "Norwich City FC's open top bus breaks down" and finally "Mrs May has capitulated to [insert name of whoever she's been talking to] in the latest Brexit talks".
But no. By 6:15 it was still going on. Reporters in Windsor; reporters outside Buck House; interviews with people camping on the pavement at both venues; intricate explanations as to why the latest arrival is seventh in line to the Throne (he may as well be 107th for all that matters). I gave up at that point. Just what is the matter with this country?
I've just returned. Now an interview with a "royal watcher" speculating on the name (apparently, Diana's father was called John, so John is a hot favourite). How the newborn is not yet HRH but will be when Charles takes the Throne. Now "How much will that newly renovated front wall in their new cottage afford them privacy?"
You couldn't make it up.