“I do believe in hope. Right now, I’m hoping last night’s condom didn’t have a hole in it. I’m hoping that the rash I have on my twig and berries doesn’t require another shot of penicillin. And, I’m hoping that when he’s a young man, my nephew George will bring around some ladies for his favorite uncle.”
And apparently he doesn’t seem to be coming across as the doting uncle hence, he is involved in this crusade.
“If there are no further questions, I will be going back to my hotel room for some excessive drinking and fornication all at the British taxpayers expense.”
Yes, children. If you believe strong enough maybe you too will be reborn as a royal.
The guy fight for his country and bangs smokin’ hot babes on all seven continents.
He’s alright in my book.
Fight for his country? Who the fuck was attacking England?
You can clearly see what a big burly red nosed ginger bear he’s going to be as he ages.
England will again have its Falstaff.
“And I was afraid that I wouldn’t amount to anything, but then fortunately, when I was born, my mum was the Queen, so see?
You should all have hope too!”
“…and so there I was, standing next to the billiard table, naked, drunk off me arse, with this American bitch taking pictures of me with her mobile phone. Things looked bad, I’ll say, but five minutes later, I was three more shots down and balls deep in her backside. What’s that? I’m sorry, not relevant? Well, I think it’s quite relevant. Her name was Hope.”
Speech done – where’s the women?
“Traditionally, the Royal Vagina can’t be touched with common instruments, so I had to be prepared to stand there to go in like this if William were to be called away.”
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