Friday, 24 August 2012

Prince Harry: A Right Royal Embarrassment

Once again, the latest and the greatest in scandal-mongering hot gossip from Anarchy Central’s 24/7 Truth & Rumour Mill – with dispatches hand forged and crafted into bespoke satire to tempt the palates of all budding nihilists and career revolutionaries who carry the immortal bloodline of the rebel sons of Belial.

Prince Chazzer, the Royal Plant Whisperer, has confirmed he contacted the Defence Secretary, Phillip ‘Dandruff’ Hammond yesterday to have a couple of MI6’s psycho-goons or a squad of the 22nd Special Air Service troopers dispatched to Las Vegas, immediately if not sooner, and secure any loose photographs of Prince Harry cavorting around a pool table with his bollocks hanging out before the scandal-mongering British press got hold of them.

Apparently Chazzer spit the proverbial dummy after receiving a call from his irate mother, QE2, who had watched the ginger-mingin Harry’s ‘strip billiards’ birthday suit performance on YouTube ( )
while scoffing a traditional Highland ‘grouse omelette’ breakfast at Balmoral – she apparently being logging in as ‘Viewer 1,784,629’.

Conversely Chazzer’s crevasse-faced concubine Gorgonzilla, the chain-smoking Duchess of Cornhole, thought it all a stellar wheeze and approvingly cheered the wayward ranga’s ‘naturist’ antics as youthful high spirits, informing one press hack from the Doggers Gazette: "What Prince Harry does in a private hotel room with some scrubber - or another bloke like these public school types do – or even a couple of sheep - is what we expect one of our rampant royals to be doing.”
“Obviously he’s following in the libidinous footsteps of his great-auntie, Princess Margaret, who had a bit of a problem keeping her legs closed for more than five minutes, and ended up with the sobriquet of the Royal Bike as everyone had been for a ride on her.”

Clarence House today admitted it is the Royal Cuckoo in the photos, posing with a naked female of the species, and not some scumbag impersonator setting Harry up for a spot of scandal or blackmail.
Royal Equerry, Sir Dinsdale Ffitch-Gargoyle, confided that he had contacted the Press Complaints Commission viz the photos due concerns that if the gutter press tabloids got hold of copies and published them in their notorious ‘Page Three’ slot in place of the usual 'Silicon Sisters’ boosted tits then this would constitute an act of Harry’s privacy being intruded upon, and a breach of the editors' code of practice.

In reply, Ron McScrote, editor of the UK’s red top Daily Shitraker, had this to say “Once again another incident so typical of the British royal family, wot’s a confederacy of wastrels and dunces. This latest pile of crap, cavortin’ around in a swastika-emblazoned jock strap, proves the delinquent little git’s possessed with a sense of asinine mischief that belies good judgement an’ makes yer wonder if he is actually a prince an' not the court jester?”

“He’s just like his dad, old Jimbo, pullin’ his cock out anywhere. So if the shit-for-brains royal cuckoo has no more sense than ter allow himself ter be copped in a compromisin’ situation an’ photographed in his birthday suit while havin’ it off with some low-life mosh pit skanger he picked up in the strip’s notorious ‘Sluts’ disco, or wherever, fer an all-night Viagra an' booze-fuelled rampant three-hole cluster-fuck session wiv him an’ his poncey mates – an’ all takin’ piccies wiv their smart phones - then wot the fuck does the silly twat expect? Of course it’s gonna ter be all over YouTube a couple of hours later.”

“Okay, bollocks ter St James’ Palace complainin’ ter the PCC about our publishing the pix bein’ an invasion of Harry’s privacy cos the tosser doesn’t seem ter give a flyin’ fuck about compromisin' it himself – plus we can use the public interest defence – but, by the same rule who in their right mind wants ter see Harry Hewitt’s spotty botty?”
“Alas, as long as the common herd have this moronic obsession wiv the eccentric antics of the so-called rich and shameless / celebrity ranks of our immoral society then some red top gutter press tabloid is gonna to publish an exposé of their scandalous, hedonistic lifestyles – cos that wot sells newspapers.”

The gospel according to whispers from the Royal Mole inside Balmoral, Queen Brenda was overheard by the senior Snitch-in-Waiting bewailing the situation to Sir Rigby Ratstamper, the chief of royal security.
“Good gracious, can’t your bodyguards keep a closer eye on the dirty little pig, running around with his willy hanging out - and you can stop smirking too, Stavros or I’m not sending one of the guardsmen off in the helicopter to pick up your incontinence pads from Boots.”

“Really, I thought all this type of outrageous behaviour would stop after Margaret croaked and we had Andrew neutered, but now he’s emulating the old tricks his Grandfather Stavros used to get up to before male menopause set in – running around in Nazi uniforms and showing off his crown jewels.”
“So, I’m too dumbstruck to ponder what other mortifying indiscretions Harry’s going to commit. Perhaps we’d better have the MI6 thugs stuff the little ranga in one of those big black North Face holdalls they use and chuck him on the next flight back to Blighty.”

Now, speculations beside, let's get down to the nitty-gritty of the matter – who was the bit of totty that Harry was snapped playing ‘hide the wiener’ with? Was it Tekem Orloff, the celebrity Ukrainian stripper he was necking with at last weekend’s Wet Republic pool party at the prestigious 5-star Slappers Hotel – or part-time shag Titsy Trollenberg – or the de-lick-ious bisexual Mingeeter Godermiche – or super-model Slagella McSkanger?

Rumour has it that the lady (sic) in question was actually Chlamydia Mingerot, an escort from the Vegas strip’s notorious Renta-Troll Agency, who cast the principles of never kiss and tell to the four winds in exchange for thirty pieces of silver and confessed “Gee, that was a big ‘first’ for me as I’d never sucked a real Prince’s cock before – an’ it was jest like a normal penis – only a bit smaller – although not that small as my ass is still sore.”
“But he was such a gentleman and never came in my mouth, plus whispered he still respected me the next morning.”

Thought for the day: Well at least with having no wicked Windsor DNA from his Mum Diana - and real ‘Pater Naturalis’ Jimbo Hewitt – and the ‘ginger minger’ factor besides - young Harry’s a veritable ladies eye-catcher – not being cursed with the hereditary Saxe-Coburg-Gotha / Schleswig-Holstein-Sonderburg-Glücksburg fly-catching slack jaw and satellite antenna bat-ears – along with galloping haemophilia and schizoid-psychopathic tendencies - and a dozen other consanguineous interbreeding calamities that come from swimming for countless centuries at the shallow end of the gene pool like the rest of Europe’s royal families.

Allergy warning: This article was written in a known propaganda-infested area and may contain traces of slight exaggeration, modest porkies, misaligned references and lashings of bush telegraph innuendo.

Rusty’s Skewed News Views (Purveyors of Bespoke Satire) - enhanced with a modest touch of Yeast Logic and a piquant dash of Political Incorrectness: a news sheet and media source not owned by Rupert Murdoch and the Masonic Zionist kikester lobby, committed to the relay of open source information – and immune from litigation under the statutes of the ‘Fair Comment in the Public Interest’ defence.


Fletch said...

another winner - hilarious

Anonymous said...

Love the humour - and these people so deserve satirising.

trixie mathews said...

I don't know, but I don't find this post humorous at all, albeit scandalous. Maybe I still need to read again to see which line can tickle me.