What do we learn in the first three episodes of hot new reality TV show Harry & Meghan? Lot of cool fun facts. That the Sussexes wore matching penguin costumes to their engagement party. That they unironically call each other H and M as if they’re low-level spies. That they don’t hold hands when not in public. That Meghan acts her head off even when playing herself.

And that they’ve learned a lot since the sledgehammer approach they took in their damaging, divisive, interview with Oprah Winfrey.

This version of Harry and Meghan is more subtle, cunning and effective now they’ve had time to debrief on what worked and what didn’t with their unproven scattergun accusations on Oprah. Now, thanks to a giant Netflix budget and huge global interest in the royal drama after Queen Elizabeth’s death, they have six hours, your honour, to lay out their case.

And that is they’re not just more in love than anyone else ever, but also more brave, more determined to expose racism, more driven to show that they were pushed from the royal fold by an organised plot against them for just being them, dammit.

As the documentary series unfolds, they build their narrative with footage of Princess Diana, flow charts of media companies, interviews with a friend called Silver Tree. It’s impressive, professional and biased. It’s awash with hyperbole and drama, thin on evidence.

Some of it is fascinating and some is hilarious, mostly because Harry and Meghan - who filmed themselves on mobiles during their Megxit almost as if they were, I don’t know, already negotiating a $US100 million ($148 million) deal with a streaming platform - take themselves so seriously.

The behind-the-scenes stuff is as innocuous as the B-roll from your dad’s Super 8 camera in the 1970s: Meghan with her hair wrapped in a towel, Meghan admiring a sunset, Meghan feeding rescue chickens. Yep, there are two people in the show’s title but only one chief banana. And it’s not the one who is the son of the king of England.

It doesn’t wash for me but I admire the lengths they’ve gone to, to paint themselves as warriors, not whingers. The message is that far from being a privileged, uber wealthy famous couple who had everything they wanted - until what they wanted wasn’t shaking hands with old ladies at Bristol hospices but glamour and unquestioning adulation - they’re victims fighting the good fight. If they were a Year 10 debating team they’d probably win, especially with ruthlessly articulate Megs on rebuttal.