Today is the anniversary of Bosworth, and it's the most important of them all because, for the first time in over 500 years, we actually know where our boy is, and exactly what he looked like. Gone is the horror story perpetrated by Tudor historians and propagandists. Instead, we have a perfectly normal, straight-standing young man who lost his life not because he was a bad king, but because one of his best friends stabbed him in the back--almost literally. A feeling I know only too well.
The final episode of "The White Queen" remains the singularly most moving--harrowing and upsetting--thing I have ever watched. The sight of Richard, aka Aneurin Barnard--lying lifeless on the ground, his eyes staring, and with Brackenbury similarly staring at him, in death--will haunt me for the rest of my life.
This young man is amazing. Okay, so writer Philippa Gregory made a complete balls-up of The Wars of The Roses--or at least the scriptwriters did, having lots of episodes way out of secret, and particularly having Richard (and the entire cast!) preside over executions when none of them were there. But, someone came good with the characterisation of Richard: he was kind, troubled, sympathetic and an overall beautiful person, a much maligned monarch.
If he doesn't get a BAFTA, I'll personally eat the wall-eyed woman's mucky knickers!