Man to get Married – World Holds Breath

In today's 'Celebrity Adoration Throttles Common Sense’ exposé edition we bring you the latest and greatest on the brain-dead antics of the 'Big Cheese' fascination addicted common herd sheeple and 'What If Harry Is A Ginger Mingin Gay?' gossip from Anarchy Central’s 24/7 Truth & Rumour Mill – with 'ring of the anvil' dispatches hand forged and crafted into razor-edged bespoke satire to tempt the palates of all budding anti-authoritarian non-conformists, proto-nihilists and those career radical pro-justice revolutionaries who carry the immortal genetic Rh-Neg recusant bloodline of the rebel sons of Belial.

Yep, the banner headline encapsulates it all: Man to get Married – World holds Breath.

Really, the fact that Harry Hewitt – a prince and member of the inbred mutant Saxe-Coburg-Gotha und Windsor 'divine right to rule' parasite clan he might be – is hardly the first bloke to get wed.
Yet the useless eater sheeple can't get enough of anything remotely 'Royal'- same when Prince Dobby married the People's Princess, Diana – then heir-apparent Bald Willy got hitched to Gypsy Kate Middleclass – the rubber-necking peasantry gobbles it up.

Royal weddings, or births - and even funerals – the senseless reverence and veneration is repeated in vomitous displays of moronic flag-waving. For fuck's sake, these people are not your social betters – and for a fact, not even your equal.

Just set Chazzer or Bald Willy or that mangy Greek twat, His Royal Rudeness, Prince Stavros of Edinburgh, to mend a flex, unblock the bog with a bucket of water, jump start the car on a frosty morning – or fix a puncture on your kid's bike.
Thanks to being born with a precious metal spoon in their gobs – plus an exaggerated sense of entitlement and abuse of privilege - that's the type of street survival tricks they never got a medal or an extra bit of gold braid or another rainbow ribbon bar for.

(More is to the point – these wankers should be made aware it is illegal to sport unearned military medals and colours. See attached URL – Princess Annie Horseface has more gongs than General Goering and Emperor Bokassa combined).

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/uknews/theroyalfamily/11471375/Medals-braid-sashes-what-exactly-are-the-military-uniforms-worn-by-the-Royal-family.html

So, back to the nitty-gritty. The Royal Cuckoo, Prince Harry Hewitt, is to marry American divorcee and soap-grope actress (sic) Meghan Markle next May in St George's Chapel at Windsor Castle - the very same venue used by Prince Chazzer of Wales when he got hitched to his long-term bit-in-the-side shag, Gorgonzilla, the chain-smoking Duchess of Cornhole.

Ms Markle, who by her own admission, has a touch of the African-American slave stock tar-brush running through her veins, will, alas, be bringing naught in the way of much needed genetic improvement to the inbred royal bloodline – apart from a probable 'downside' Bell Curve Deficiency Syndrome addition.

The Fuckingham Palace grapevine is rife with rumours that Queen Lizzie is the one footing the tab for grandson Harry's wedding – a factor the anarchistic likes of Republic have Booed down – claiming it will be the taxpaying public getting billed – as per usual).

Oh yes, another classic Tavistock Institute mind control distraction exercise – fishing with celebrity bait – common herd sheeple swallow the lot – hook, line n sinker – and don't give a flying fuck what's going drastically wrong across the rest of the world.

As if we haven't had enough of the royal wedding propaganda / distraction media crap to keep the public's eye off the ball – and from focusing on our very own graft and corruption ridden House of Conmans and Upper House of Frauds – all working in unison to upend the Brexit referendum vote and keep us beholden to the EUSSR and Brussels kleptocratic hierarchy – now the gutter press and Biased Broadcasting Corp are mesmerised with the fact that the gold-digging Meghan 'Princess Pushy' Markle (and probably Harry Hewitt too) is to spend Christmas with Queen Lizzie at Sandringham.

Gee! Wow! Now won't that be an interesting meet – with Markle taking a crash course in the art of supplicant curtseying.
"Have you come far?" ... "Yeah, all the fuckin' way from the Colonies."

We wonder, with baited breath, what scatterbrained Meghan expects to find under the Sandringham Xmas tree – from Queenie to her. A glittering crown? Token British citizenship? Probably a bottle of the Pestco Greedy Grocer's Chateau de Catpiss - buy one - get two free.

Ms Markle, 36, a former actress who portrayed butch lesbian double agent Sapphie Godermiche in US TV drama Sluts - also appeared in the sci-fi series Minge, playing FBI special agent Fellatti Gobblegook, and is perhaps most famous for her role as Ratface Jane in the remake of Alex Haley's Roots, shown on the 'Same Old Shite' channel in the UK.

Regardless, the woman has also grown a large social network following since getting Harry the Ranga between the sheets, with as many as 9 people faithfully following her posts on Instagram - and over 35 Twatter admirers after she linked to US President Donald Chump.

Markle became the Global Ambassador for World Vision Canada, which campaigns on behalf of zillionaire Microsoft toxic vaccine euthanasia fanatic, Billy Boy Gates for better medical 'stealthcare' for children around the world.
As part of her humanitarian work role, Markle travelled to Rwanda for the charity's 'Chop-a-Tutsi' anniversary celebrations and received the revered razor-sharp Golden Panga award from the genocidal war crimes President, Paul Kagame.

Yet confetti, bouquets n bluster aside, getting hitched to Harry won't be Ms Markle's first marriage – for in 2011 she married Hollywood film producer Billy Bob Dorkenstein, but the pair divorced two days later - after the drugs and booze wore off.
Such sordid reports have led to speculation that Markle's simply sickly sweet eye candy - a low life Yankie soap opera skanger who's had more pricks in her than the dartboard that fell off the wall at the Pikeys Arms pub last weekend.

To add to the calumny, Markle is currently a Devil worshipper who regularly attends Black Mass at Toronto's St Satan's Church for Latter Day Demonics - but will undergo an exorcism and be baptised into the Church of England faith by the Archbishop of Canterbury, prior to the wedding.

As if the fore-mentioned line of bullshit wasn't enough, Meghan Markle now wants to get to know the UK – warts and all. Well, in that case, how about a tour of Anfield, Liverpool 8, around pub closing time on a Saturday night – to get a real feel of Scouseland hospitality.

To further publicise their relationship and forthcoming matrimonial match, Prince Harry and Ms Markle will carry out their first official engagement together on Friday – with a walkabout visit to the Nottingham town centre's Christmas Market to gorge themselves on freebie glasses of hot toddy and steaming pork pies.

Plus the couple are currently working on plans to include the moronic public demographic in some way on their wedding day – reportedly by flogging the film rights to the BBC's subscription-viewing Shitflix channel – and thus ensuring UK viewers trot off down the Post Office and buy a valid telly licence.

Actual details of the Royal Wedding entourage are still to be announced but speculation is 'guesswork' rife, as always the case with Broken Britain's shit-for-brains media.
Conversely Flatbrokes, the UK's iconic High Street bookies, are fielding top odds on who will – and who won't – be part and parcel of the May 19th royal bash.

Order of dress for the 'big day'? Harry in his best dress Gruppenführer uniform - and her wedding gown embossed with silver Nazi SS lightning bolt runes. The best man? One of Harry's Hooray Henry pubic school chav boozing mates. The bridesmaids? A few of Meghan's soap actress bimbo cronies – and not those currently suing Harvey Fatberg for rape. A new royal title? How about Princess Pushy?

Thought for the day. One thing Ms Meghan Markle ain't – n never will be - is Diana Mk 2.

Allergy warning: This article was composed in a known propaganda-infested area - and whilst purposely blending high octane irreverence, slanderous allegations and unbridled conjecture with measures of wild rumour 'and' decaffeinated public interest factoids - may also 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.
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