Somehow, the London Daily Fail decided to go with the "let's visit celebrity heaven" bit, and headline "Prince" Harry and his mewlings about Diana.
IF I'M BEING HONEST, I had no idea this rusty Muppet was in America. Nobody cares about him here. Americans aren't sure which of Diana's vaginal ploppages Harry is. Most do vaguely know he's the Nazi drunken arse-showing fuckhead who partied in Las Vegas. But some might think he's the bald-twit who managed to bag a plastic Barbie doll bint named Kate and lives a charmed life of having his picture taken and waving once in a while.
Either way, to quote the Bard of Keadby, "FUCK and OFF."
While America is an Anglophile country, we already have a PRINCE. He's a foppish androgyne who wrote maybe two good songs, but is considered royalty. He's a weird hybrid of Michael Jackson and Bob Dylan who knows how to shut up and hype himself as elusive. His overload on silly costumes and perfume and attitude puts BOTH William and Harry to shame. In fact, PRINCE is also our PRINCESS, and a lot more feminine than Camilla or Fergie or some of the other blue blood blobs.
While the idiot American tabloids did cover the fab Royal Wedding, that's about it. Everyone ALWAYS covers the Royal Wedding. Willie and his bitch's trip to NYC was much less a national excitement than a chance for creepy ugly warthog Bill De Blasio and his cleaning woman wife to rub shoulders with actual classy people who have any kind of breeding.
Just WHY this fuckhead Harry is in America, I have no idea. He hasn't been on the cover of magazines or mentioned in the local papers, and "Good Morning America" is no big deal. I mean, the jerk didn't appear on "The Tonight Show" did he?
Any sympathy one might have for this guy goes out the window when he starts pulling that shit about Mum looking down from HEAVEN on him. Yeah? Was she doing it when you were showing your arse? Flashing the Swastika, you stupid git? Or did she figure, "The horse apple doesn't fall far from the asshole...I wasn't exactly classy fucking around on Prince Charles with the chauffeur or the stable hand or whoever."
She switched from being Lady Chatterly to being Crazy Twatterly, pretty much selling herself to the highest bidder, a hummus-faced oily dope named Dodi. In that regard, she's no more of a disappointing whore than Jackie Kennedy who married herself off to ugly Greek scumbag Ari Onassis in exchange for financial security. But Christ, a fuckin' Allah-Kazam? Granted, Dodi was one of those Arab hypocrites who faced the Swiss Banks, not Mecca, but he was basically just a white slaver. Like any Saudi-fish, his main aim was to ape the Western way of life, and how he loved looking down and seeing a Brit's huge beak nestling on his grimy pubes, and the greasy Brillo eclipsed by the nimbus of Diana's bright orange hair.
But I digress.
Harry's main point seems to be advertising for a bride. He figures getting married and having children IS the ultimate. It what would make his Mum proud. Sure. Settle down. Spawn. Spend your time waving to the peasants.
He "adores kids." Gee, that's nice to know. So he'll have kids, suck away millions of dollars a year, and once in a while say something about how unexploded landmines are bad, or something. Maybe he'll get involved in one of Mum's charities; you know, one of the ones she dropped while she was busying bouncing on somebody's lap with her knickers around her ankles.
What impact has brother William or daddy Chuckles had on the world? NONE. Chuckles knows his place, which is by the side of his horse. Bald Billy and "Don't Call her Caityln" barely rouse themselves from stagnant waving as parades carrying them for a mile or two. They came to New York and watched some niglets in a local school? SO? Took in a basketball game and marveled how niglets can grow into huge tarry stalks that barely can fit into their undershirts and shorts? SO?
What impact has the Queen had on Syria or Palestine or Isis or incompetent Turks and Greeks demanding money? So, this fokker was in the British Army? Hey, Red, you weren't the ONLY one.
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