On reflection, I know it could have been a lot, lot worse.
I was a few weeks into a new venture / social experiment, recording paid-for greetings on the Cameo app – a favourite money-spinner of a certain Nigel Farage MP, more of which later – when I dropped a technical clanger.
I was on holiday at the time, in Ibiza, when a request came in from a lovely lady in America, asking for a message for her forthcoming 60th birthday.
In my defence, it was hot and I was uncomfortable, grumpy, hungry and desperate to go down for dinner, and therefore a little impatient with my wife, who’d very kindly agreed to record the five-minute message for me on my phone.
Consequently, I made a bit of a fist of my first attempt and when I tried to start again, using the ‘edit’ function on the app, to my horror I accidentally pressed ‘send’ instead.
Instead of receiving a jolly, inspiring message, the customer will have watched me angrily cursing my botch-job, and bad-temperedly asking my wife to film me again.
Yes, I know… small mercies. Someone easily could have walked out of the hotel bathroom in a towel – or worse – and my language could have been much more colourful. I was very lucky.
Unable to delete or retrieve the video, we desperately recorded a second message and sent it, hoping the customer would overlook the first one.
I took a few minutes to sketch out my reply, before asking my wife to record me, seated on the sofa in our living room, writes Richard Eden
I tried to entice our cavapoo, Windsor, to join me, thinking our American friend might like the royal-sounding name we chose for our pooch
She did, bless her, and later awarded me five stars, before $15 (£11) duly dropped into my account, for which I was very grateful.
But what was I doing on Cameo in the first place, you may well ask?
Like many people, I’d read stories about how public figures such Reform leader Nigel Farage and The Inbetweeners actor James Buckley have made fortunes from recording messages on the US-based site.
Farage asks for – and gets – £72 for a five-minute message, while Buckley gets £41.
Since becoming an MP last year, Farage has made more than £144,000 filming Cameo videos for fans. In one single month, he earned £27,000.
Ever the professional, it’s said he devotes two hours every Sunday morning to this sideline, reeling off 120 messages at a time, making £8,640 before he’s even had breakfast.
Not a bad little hustle.
So could I, the Daily Mail’s Diary Editor, and for the last five years, a regular panellist on Palace Confidential, the Daily Mail’s weekly royal talk show on YouTube that has steadily built up a loyal audience of hundreds of thousands of viewers around the world, do the same?
Closer inspection of the site revealed that there are, indeed, several fellow journalists offering their services for anything from £20 to £100 per message.
Reality TV star Caitlyn Jenner once commanded $2,500 a message, although she’s not active on the site any more.
How hard could it be?
‘Getting started as a talent on Cameo is fast and easy,’ the company promised me in its email. Flattered to be regarded as ‘a talent’, I read on: ‘All you need to do is complete our enrolment form and then it’s just a few steps to set up your profile.’
But how much should I charge per message? I took the advice of Cameo, which recommended new starters should ask for $15 (£11).
I posted my profile and advertised my services on my social media accounts before switching my phone off and going to bed, confident that no one would be willing to pay and I could tell my editor that it was a pointless exercise.
To my great surprise, when I switched on my phone the next morning, there were already two Cameo requests in my email inbox.
My teenage daughter was aghast: ‘But you’re not even famous’, she said, prompting a dinner-table discussion about the nature of fame in the social media age.
The Inbetweeners actor James Buckley has made fortunes from recording messages on the US-based site
The Cameo app, which allows celebrities to record videos for their fans in exchange for money, is a favourite money-spinner of a certain Nigel Farage MP
It’s an interesting topic: when I was a child, famous people would be known across the generations, but now, someone might be a huge name to our children, but mean nothing to most people over the age of 30.
I remember being at an event with my daughters when they spotted someone they knew from TikTok of whom I had never heard. The girls were overcome with the sort of nervous excitement that I might feel if I met a Hollywood legend like Christopher Walken, or Scarlett Johansson – whose names, of course, would mean nothing to them.
Cameo was founded in 2017 to take advantage of this changing nature of fame. Based in Chicago, it has more than 60,000 ‘famous’ people from all over the world offering to provide messages, the most common of which are birthday greetings.
Its boss, Steven Galanis, told me: ‘We’re in the business of delivering joy, whether it’s a birthday shoutout, a pep talk, or just a surprise message from someone you admire. That emotional connection is at the heart of everything we do.’
He added: ‘Our mission has always been fan-driven, and we’re constantly inspired by the creativity, laughter, and real human moments our platform creates. We want to roll out the red carpet for fans and talent around the world.’
And here was I, about to deliver some joy myself. Suddenly, it started to feel very real.
I opened the emails with trepidation, fully expecting them to be from friends or colleagues, teasing me by asking me to record embarrassing or cringe-making messages.
In fact, the first request was from an American, seeking a message for her nephew’s wife. ‘She lives in South Carolina and is a big fan of the royals, particularly the Prince and Princess of Wales,’ she said. ‘What do the senior royals think of the Americans?’
I took a few minutes to sketch out my reply, before asking my wife to record me, seated on the sofa in our living room.
I tried to entice our cavapoo, Windsor, to join me, thinking our American friend might like the royal-sounding name we chose for our pooch, who was born within sight of Windsor Castle, in the Buckinghamshire village of Dorney.
Before sending the video, I watched it back and found it cringe-making. Full disclosure here: before I started Palace Confidential, I’d never been a comfortable public speaker. I’ve never been asked to do a best man’s speech at a wedding, and this felt particularly awkward, sending a message to someone 4,000 miles away whom I had never met and knew precious little about.
But I managed to cobble a message together, speaking mainly about the Royal Family’s visits to the USA over the years, and Windsor was obligingly cute on my lap.
The recipient was, however, apparently delighted, awarding me a five-star rating. This gave me a slight thrill, making me feel like a primary school pupil who had been handed a gold star.
The second request was even more daunting: it was from a children’s book author from Singapore, Dave Seow, who sought what Cameo described as a ‘pep talk’.
I have enough trouble inspiring my two daughters to do their homework. How on earth was I meant to encourage a grown-up author? Plus, he was willing to pay a bit more if I fulfilled the request within 24 hours. The pressure was on.
I did my best to give Mr Seow a pep talk, explaining that most writers, including me, find it tough at times. Thankfully, my garbled recording seemed to pep up Mr Seow, who not only awarded me five stars but posted a kind message online, saying: ‘I’m so happy with my Cameo from Mr Eden. It was such a well thought-out and kind message. Highly recommended.’
I was starting to enjoy this.
The next request, though, sent a shiver down my spine.
It was for a couple due to be married. They were, I was told by the bride’s mother who was paying for the message, ‘getting married this September after six years of dating. They look forward to a home and family. I would love if Richard could give them a bit of marriage advice and words of encouragement’. The customer added: ‘I love you R!’
Grateful for the expression of affection, I was, however, horrified by the prospect of giving marriage guidance. Although I have been happily married for 20 years, this is entirely thanks to my long-suffering wife. What could I say to encourage this couple, of whom I knew nothing other than that one of them was an admirer of our Royal Family?
After putting it off and putting it off, I finally recorded a stuttering message which included one of the only useful bits of marital advice I had ever been given: ‘When you’re wrong, admit it; when you’re right, say nothing.’
Perhaps it was the presence of Windsor on my knee rather than my wedding tips that did it, but the bride’s mother seemed pleased with my video, as she also awarded me five stars.
Over the next few days, the requests kept coming, after my new sideline was promoted on Palace Confidential. Indeed, so encouraged was I by the response that I dared to put the price up to $20 (£15). I was thrilled when one female customer was so pleased with my message that she gave me a $50 (£38) tip.
‘My sister’s 60th birthday is coming up,’ said one typical request. ‘We’re Canadian and we always watch Palace Confidential. I would be most appreciative if you could wish my youngest sister a very happy 60th birthday now that she is so old!’
Another said: ‘My mother is going to be 74 this year. The only thing she asked for was a video from you. She is a huge fan and loves everything Royal Family.’
Moving house inspired a couple of requests. ‘My mother and I are huge fans,’ said one from America. ‘She is moving into a new home and is so excited. A new chapter and deserved. It will not be a royal residence but it is her palace. I would love to send her a congratulatory message from you.’
I’d started to notice a pattern here: the vast majority of my work was coming from America, which seemed to reflect the Palace Confidential fanbase, 25 per cent of whom are based in the UK, 40 per cent in America and the other 35 per cent from absolutely everywhere else across the globe.
And so far, I haven’t been asked to do anything embarrassing or unethical which, of course, I would simply ignore.
After three weeks on Cameo, I have fulfilled 14 requests, netting me a grand total of £252. So I won’t be giving up the day job just yet!
The experience has, though, been surprisingly rewarding in other ways.
I have always enjoyed hearing from ‘fans’ in different parts of the globe and responding to them directly. Now, with Windsor on my lap, who knows where we’ll be spreading our joy next.
