
Australian royal prank DJs claim their bosses MADE them phone the Princess of Wales's hospital and impersonate the late Queen before nurse's suicide
Michael Christian and 2Day FM radio co-host Mel Greig made headlines around the world on December 4, 2012 when they duped staff at King Edward VII's Hospital in London, The Telegraph reported.
The duo convinved nurse Jacintha Saldanha that they were the late Queen and the then-Prince Charles checking in on the Princess of Wales, who at the time was being treated for severe morning sickness while pregnant with Prince George.
Falling for their deception, Ms Saldanha disclosed some of the Princess' private medical information before transferring the call through to the ward.
Humiliated by the telephone prank, the nurse - a mother to two children - later took her own life.
In one of three apparent suicide notes, Ms Saldanha wrote a short letter in which she expressed her deep anger at the Australian radio presenters and blamed them for her tragic death.
The nurse's death led to a huge backlash against the show and brodcaster, with its two presenters forced into hiding after receiving death threats.
In a lawsuit against the station's broadcaster, Southern Cross Austereo (SCA), Mr Christian alleges that he was ordered to make the call by the production team only days after starting in the role.
He said that the hoax call breached the Australian Communications and Media Authority code of practice and he should never have been asked to do it.
Mr Christian also said that he was given insufficient support in the wake of Ms Saldanha's suicide.
He claims that the company promised to provide support in the event that any of the antics on the show overstepped the boundaries.
Mr Christian, who lost his job in February, accuses the organisation of turning him and Ms Greig into 'convenient fall guys and scapegoats'.
Mr Christian's lawyers wrote: 'SCA did not immediately take public accountability for the incident, but rather allowed Mr Christian and Ms Greig to be left exposed to relentless public vitriol, harassment and abuse, including death threats.
'The radio presenters were left by SCA as the convenient fall guys and scapegoats for SCA management decisions and non-compliance.'
Mr Christian claims that the incident severely damaged his reputation and earnings potential.
He also claims that he was discouraged from pursing legal action against SCA at the time because they promised that they would help him rebuilding his reputation and career.
Among Mr Christian's greivences are that SCA filed to provide sufficient mental health support or start a PR campaign to clear his name.
He also claims that he was not offered promotions or pay rises to reward his loyalty for sticking with the company, and instead was slowly phased-out.
'When we thought about making a call it was going to go for 30 seconds, we were going to be hung up on, and that was it. As innocent as that,' Mr Christian told Channel Nine's A Current Affair programme less than a week after the prank broke.
Describing him and his co-host as 'shattered, gutted, heartbroken', he said 'no-one could've imagined this to happen.'
'The accents were terrible. You know it was designed to be stupid. We were never meant to get that far from the little corgis barking in the background - we obviously wanted it to be a joke,' Ms Greig added.
'There's nothing that can make me feel worse than what I feel right now. And for what I feel for the family. We're so sorry that this has happened to them.'
Speaking in 2014, Ms Greig revealed that her mother had received death threats, while the 2DayFM presenter herself battled depression.
'I felt like a failure as a human being,' Ms Greig said in a tearful interview with Channel Seven's Sunday Night.
'I am ashamed of myself. I should have tried harder to not let that prank call air.'
At the time of Ms Saldanha's death, the Prince and Princess of Wales said they were 'deeply saddened' by her passing.
For confidential support in the UK, call the Samaritans on 116123 or visit www.samaritans.org for details
Hashtags

Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles


Times
33 minutes ago
- Times
Billion Dollar Playground review — peek into rich lives feels far too confected
Do you disagree that life is short? Do you therefore wish to fritter away hours of your existence on confected tension and overhyped first world problems set to a 'luxe' aesthetic? Then I have just the show for you! Billion Dollar Playground (BBC3) is an attempt to ride on the coat-tails of Selling Sunset and wealth porn TV generally, though it is set in Sydney, Australia, not Los Angeles. And it is not about buying property but a high-end holiday rental company and its 'elite service' staff whose response to their rich, often very brattish guests staying at $40 million mansions is never, ever 'no', even when those clients demand a fire-eater at short notice. And, yes, it's strangely moreish if completely unconvincing. 'Structured reality' is, if you ask me, usually code for 'contrived and fabricated tosh which is a bit of an insult to one's intelligence'. It is 'fictual' rather than 'factual'. So many of the spats between the workers here seem obviously scripted. Some of the one percenters' pickiness ('the bath towel is too smooth!') seem clearly for the benefit of the camera, possibly involving several retakes. Why not just make a drama on the subject and be done with it? Well, I suppose The White Lotus has already done that rather well. So here is its clunky offshoot, a group of (attractive, obviously) young people with perfect teeth whose job is to pander to the whims of holiday guests who have everything but who would complain about the sheen on an angel's wings. This, actually, is a good idea. Being appalled watching people sending back their caviar to slaving personal chefs just because they can, and showing us that being obscenely wealthy doesn't necessarily make people happy, is one of the few consolations of being a pleb. Enjoy. Call me catty (plenty have) but I certainly enjoyed the fact that a group of super-rich middle-aged women arrived with groaning Louis Vuitton suitcases for one weekend and there wasn't a nice frock in them. They looked like they'd raided the Matalan sale rail. But the artifice here is just too obvious. Isn't the entire point of high-end service elegant, classy discretion from the staff? This lot spend so much time bitching behind the scenes, I wouldn't come here if I were a yacht/PJ owner (that's 'private jet' to peasants). The part in which one woman brought along her dog when pets aren't allowed looked so rehearsed I laughed out loud (she eventually agreed to pay $1,000 for steam cleaning. Expensive weekend). It reminds me a little of last year's atrocious Buying London, Netflix's series about ghastly estate agents selling 'super prime' property in the capital to high rollers, which felt to me to be totally contrived. Just as in that series, here we have two beautiful female members of staff, Heaven and Jasmin, pitted against each other. The male boss, the head concierge Salvatore, found fault with everything Heaven did while, as far as I could see, doing very little himself. Cut to him flouncing out unprofessionally in episode two in a way that I can't think anyone trained at the Savoy would do. Not a moment of this feels authentic. But if you're willing to suspend your disbelief you can at least savour the realisation that being rich and working with the rich isn't all it's cracked up to be. ★★☆☆☆


The Guardian
34 minutes ago
- The Guardian
‘Fungi fatale' and ‘death cap stare': how the world's media reported Erin Patterson's guilty verdict
The murder trial has spawned podcasts, documentaries, thousands of column inches, viral social media posts – and a rapt global audience. After a week of deliberation, a supreme court jury found Victorian woman Erin Patterson guilty of three counts of murder and one of attempted murder after three guests died and one almost died after eating her homemade beef wellington lunch. Here's how newspapers in Australia and around the world responded to Monday's verdict. In London, the case made the Guardian's front page as well as two inside pages, where the verdict was reported, alongside details around how Patterson covered up – and repeatedly lied about – the death cap mushroom poisoning of her relatives. The Sydney Morning Herald's front page was dominated by a photo taken of Patterson recoiling from camera flashes through the window of a police vehicle in May – an image only allowed to be published after a verdict was reached. The paper reported the mother-of-two 'did not react, staring at the jury as the verdict was read out: guilty'. The Age ran with Patterson's 'death cap stare' and, as with many media outlets, a photo from the same series taken in May. A newly public image of the beef wellington leftovers, a key exhibit in the investigation, also ran on the paper's front page, along with images of the murder victims, Don and Gail Patterson and Heather Wilkinson. The Australian opted for 'killer in the kitchen'. Much of the national broadsheet's front page was given to its reporting from Morwell, including that Patterson 'could die in jail as the nation's most notorious female prisoner'. 'Fungi fatale' led the West Australian's coverage, alongside an image of Patterson inside the same police vehicle. 'Death cap cook found guilty of three murders', the paper said. To the Courier Mail, the killer is cooked. 'Finally revealed: how evil Erin first gave herself up', stated the Queensland tabloid. The Herald Sun maintained the 'cooked' theme as it stated justice was 'served for cold-blooded killer'. Inside, alongside its main story, the paper reported on revelations Patterson 'was crazy' and why the 'quiet country mum turned wicked'. The UK's Daily Mail featured a six-page special focusing on the 'definitive inside story' of the 'mushroom murderer' – and nudged readers towards its YouTube video and podcast coverage of the trial. 'The verdict ends one of Australia's most intriguing homicide cases', the paper's Melbourne correspondent reported. Over at the BBC, a raft of online stories around the verdict was led by the headline 'Australian woman guilty of murdering relatives with toxic mushroom meal'. A newly released video of Patterson discharging herself from Leongatha hospital – another key piece of evidence seen in court – featured prominently in the report. In the US, the 'mushroom poisoning case' also made headlines at the New York Times, which reported Patterson's conviction came after a trial that had 'gripped' Australia. 'The contrast between the banality of the lunch – a quaint small town in dairy country, the familiar menu item, the seemingly typical mother of two – and its lethal outcome seemed to foment more public fascination with the case than with any other murder trial in recent memory', reported the Times.


The Guardian
37 minutes ago
- The Guardian
Live Aid at 40: When Rock 'n' Roll Took on the World review – the moment Bob Geldof bursts into tears is astounding
On the evening of 23 October 1984, Bob Geldof, singer with the waning pop act the Boomtown Rats, had a social engagement. He had been invited to Mayfair for the launch of a book by Peter York, profiler of London's most privileged bons vivants. But before he left the house, Geldof watched the BBC television news and a report by Michael Buerk about a hellish famine in Ethiopia. Among the many startling, blackly comic archive clips in Live Aid at 40: When Rock 'n' Roll Took on the World is footage of Geldof at that glitzy party, reeling from what he had seen on TV and remarking to a fellow guest that it was 'gross' for them to be enjoying champagne and canapes. That tension between glamour and guilt is at the heart of this three-part retrospective that doesn't ignore the flaws in Geldof's grand plan to use music to feed the world. It's a fascinating portrait of a complex man's imperfect attempt to solve an impossible problem. The grand achievement commemorated in the title of the series is Live Aid, the Geldof-organised mega-concert that took place in London and Philadelphia in the summer of 1985. Episode one, however, is all about the smaller but still massive cultural moment that resulted from Geldof's initial impulse to raise funds for Ethiopia: Do They Know It's Christmas?, a single by the hastily assembled supergroup Band Aid. Having written the song with Midge Ure of Ultravox, Geldof sets about convincing every pop star in Britain to gather at a recording studio in west London on 25 November 1984. For the first time but not the last, something that shouldn't be possible happens very quickly: Geldof has the balls to demand participation from A-list stars, who have all seen the Buerk report and are keen to help. Pop is far too globalised, atomised and digitised now for such a project to take off: at best in the 21st century, the equivalent celebrity charity effort would be a co-authored viral video. Geldof and Ure both make the point that in 1984, pop gods were overwhelmingly from working-class backgrounds, which is also much less true today. But however it came about, everyone turns up, from Spandau Ballet to Duran Duran, Phil Collins to Sting, Status Quo to Bananarama. The footage of them there together is still intoxicating. George Michael sings a line, looks dissatisfied then fixes it, changing 'but say a prayer' to 'BUT say a prayer' on the next take. Bono might be characteristically cringeworthy in his 2025 interview, with his talk of how he and fellow Irishman Geldof 'have the folk memory of famine' and are thus particularly attuned to the cause, but he also knows exactly what he's doing when a lyric sheet and a microphone are in front of him: having been given the song's darkest, most difficult line, he shifts 'Well tonight thank God it's them, instead of you' up an octave to the top of his register, doubling its impact. Once the single has sold a zillion copies, we witness Geldof's transformation from musician to activist. Before long he is meeting Mother Teresa ('She played the old lady shtick but boy, this was showbusiness') and telling world leaders what he thinks of them: the documentary has dug up a clip of him ambushing Margaret Thatcher over her initial insistence on collecting VAT on every record sold. In a situation where one could so easily think of the right thing to say afterwards when it's too late, Geldof rather magnificently knocks down her glib defence of western inaction there and then. He is even more unapologetic with the president of Ethiopia, swearing at him to his face, although sadly there's no footage of that and we have to rely on Geldof's recall. The most stunning moment is another Geldof recollection, from when he was in a desert in Ethiopia and heard Do They Know it's Christmas? on the radio: when he gets to the part about listening to that Bono line while looking directly at the horror it referred to, the present-day Geldof suddenly bursts into tears. 'All the rage, all the shame' is his bluntly eloquent summary of emotions that are still with him, and he is frank here about becoming a white saviour figure who placed himself in the spotlight – but had to do that to keep the media interested. Whether Geldof ultimately struck that balance is explored in the two further episodes, as is the question of how the money was distributed and how much self-interest drove the artists who performed at Live Aid. But there's no debating what an extraordinary phenomenon it was. Live Aid at 40: When Rock 'n' Roll Took on the World aired on BBC Two and is on iPlayer now.