Fergie’s Sunninghill Park mansion devastated
Princess Eugenie, youngest daughter of Prince Andrew and the Fergie Beast, celebrated her sixteenth birthday last week with a party of such spectacular extravagance to have stirred the envy of Lucullus.
The Pirates of the Caribbean theme birthday bash, laid on by her estranged parents and costing in excess of £30,000, drew harsh criticism from social welfare groups who compared the one night fling’s bill to the annual joint gross wage for a married couple of commoners striving to feed and clothe their children and pay a mortgage and council tax.
The fifty-odd high society teenage guests, comprised of aristocratic nobheads and vermin in ermine school pals from the Millfield Academy for Spoiled Brats, were served champagne upon arrival but quickly broke out their own smuggled hard liquor supplies and started down the path of decadence, engaging in an impromptu blamange hurling frenzy along the minstrel’s gallery.
Events took a turn for the worse when Prince Harry breezed in driving a hijacked Carlsberg draught lager tanker, which the party’s Horray Henry faction quickly used to fill the swimming pool then cavort naked in.
Prince Hairy, affectionately named the Ginger Minger by Cousin Eugenie, came dressed for the theme party in his customary Nazi U-boat commander’s Kriegsmarine uniform, and lost no time in brandishing his cutlass and torpedoing the pirate galleon anchored on the estate’s lake. Sadly the scheduled keel-hauling display had to be cancelled.
The Duke of Edinburgh, acting as Chief Monitor, made a valiant attempt to censure Hairy’s belligerent behaviour but had his Zimmer frame snatched away by the drunken revelers and was tossed, arse-uppards, into a vat of festering guacamole.
Prince Charles, ensconced in the mansion’s library discussing Tibetan cosmology with an aspidistra and a bowl of hyacinths, remained oblivious
of the party’s descent into drunken debauchery until later informed by the Royal Snitch.
The makings of a right Royal chunder-fest became apparent when the banquet hall’s vomit trough overflowed at 8:00pm, disrupting the hamster juggling display, with guests taking to the garden lawns to continue their bingeing and view the evening fireworks display. This failed to impress some of the Hooray Henry cabal, who commandeered one of the security helicopters and proceeded to napalm the estate gardeners’ cottages, laying waste to several acres of Windsor Great Park and the Berkshire countryside in the process.
Eugenie’s thirty-two foot high birthday cake, designed by architect Norman Wobbly Bridge Foster and constructed for the occasion by Wimpey’s confectionary division, became the next target for the ravers. Several boozed guests scaled the cake and used its summit for a bungee jumping session until fractures appeared in the icing and the entire edifice toppled onto a pair of Beefeaters.
Rumours of drunken dogging orgies around the mansion’s gardens were later substantiated by security guards who came to the rescue of a screaming Daily Mirror reporter, anally impaled on a Saguaro cactus by the revelers after being caught photographing the al fresco sex romps.
Security decided it prudent to end the birthday bash at 2:00 am when a cadre of sozzled Hooray Henrys were overheard discussing what a spiffing good wheeze it would be to detonate a small tactical nuclear device outside the Ascot police station on the drive home.
Sunninghill Park, given to Andrew and Fergie as a wedding present by the Queen, was a target for criticism even at the time of their 1986 marriage.
Costing £10 million, the mansion was considered an extravagant display of Monarchial waste when common peasants received such mundane items as towels, toasters or bedding as wedding gifts.
A spokesman for Contract Options, the company hired to clean up the post-party mess, told The Rockall Times “Prince Andrew an’ Fergie are gonna shi*t kittens an’ really spit the dummy when they see this lot. It’s gonna take days to just rake up all the condoms an’ fag ends from the lawns.”
“The wine cellar’s a right pig’s ear too. The kids smashed the padlock off the door an’ supped every bloody thing down there. It’s knee deep in spew and bottles strewn everywhere.”
Princess Eugenie, currently studying for A-levels in Indolence and Hedonistic Squandering, is rumoured to be suffering from post-prom depression and will remain grounded until Christmas.
The Pirates of the Caribbean theme birthday bash, laid on by her estranged parents and costing in excess of £30,000, drew harsh criticism from social welfare groups who compared the one night fling’s bill to the annual joint gross wage for a married couple of commoners striving to feed and clothe their children and pay a mortgage and council tax.
The fifty-odd high society teenage guests, comprised of aristocratic nobheads and vermin in ermine school pals from the Millfield Academy for Spoiled Brats, were served champagne upon arrival but quickly broke out their own smuggled hard liquor supplies and started down the path of decadence, engaging in an impromptu blamange hurling frenzy along the minstrel’s gallery.
Events took a turn for the worse when Prince Harry breezed in driving a hijacked Carlsberg draught lager tanker, which the party’s Horray Henry faction quickly used to fill the swimming pool then cavort naked in.
Prince Hairy, affectionately named the Ginger Minger by Cousin Eugenie, came dressed for the theme party in his customary Nazi U-boat commander’s Kriegsmarine uniform, and lost no time in brandishing his cutlass and torpedoing the pirate galleon anchored on the estate’s lake. Sadly the scheduled keel-hauling display had to be cancelled.
The Duke of Edinburgh, acting as Chief Monitor, made a valiant attempt to censure Hairy’s belligerent behaviour but had his Zimmer frame snatched away by the drunken revelers and was tossed, arse-uppards, into a vat of festering guacamole.
Prince Charles, ensconced in the mansion’s library discussing Tibetan cosmology with an aspidistra and a bowl of hyacinths, remained oblivious
of the party’s descent into drunken debauchery until later informed by the Royal Snitch.
The makings of a right Royal chunder-fest became apparent when the banquet hall’s vomit trough overflowed at 8:00pm, disrupting the hamster juggling display, with guests taking to the garden lawns to continue their bingeing and view the evening fireworks display. This failed to impress some of the Hooray Henry cabal, who commandeered one of the security helicopters and proceeded to napalm the estate gardeners’ cottages, laying waste to several acres of Windsor Great Park and the Berkshire countryside in the process.
Eugenie’s thirty-two foot high birthday cake, designed by architect Norman Wobbly Bridge Foster and constructed for the occasion by Wimpey’s confectionary division, became the next target for the ravers. Several boozed guests scaled the cake and used its summit for a bungee jumping session until fractures appeared in the icing and the entire edifice toppled onto a pair of Beefeaters.
Rumours of drunken dogging orgies around the mansion’s gardens were later substantiated by security guards who came to the rescue of a screaming Daily Mirror reporter, anally impaled on a Saguaro cactus by the revelers after being caught photographing the al fresco sex romps.
Security decided it prudent to end the birthday bash at 2:00 am when a cadre of sozzled Hooray Henrys were overheard discussing what a spiffing good wheeze it would be to detonate a small tactical nuclear device outside the Ascot police station on the drive home.
Sunninghill Park, given to Andrew and Fergie as a wedding present by the Queen, was a target for criticism even at the time of their 1986 marriage.
Costing £10 million, the mansion was considered an extravagant display of Monarchial waste when common peasants received such mundane items as towels, toasters or bedding as wedding gifts.
A spokesman for Contract Options, the company hired to clean up the post-party mess, told The Rockall Times “Prince Andrew an’ Fergie are gonna shi*t kittens an’ really spit the dummy when they see this lot. It’s gonna take days to just rake up all the condoms an’ fag ends from the lawns.”
“The wine cellar’s a right pig’s ear too. The kids smashed the padlock off the door an’ supped every bloody thing down there. It’s knee deep in spew and bottles strewn everywhere.”
Princess Eugenie, currently studying for A-levels in Indolence and Hedonistic Squandering, is rumoured to be suffering from post-prom depression and will remain grounded until Christmas.
No comments:
Post a Comment