“I see..and which of you three gentlemen is the official food taster?”
He pissed in it. That fat drunken twat pissed in my tea.
Chaz hangin’ with his crew.
“Mayor Ford, please! Respect the prince’s personal space!”
“Brilliant idea for addressing the unemployment problem in an environmentally sustainable way, gentleman!”
‘Thank you, Prince Charles!’
“I think you need a catchier name for your product than Soylent Green … but keep the Green part because that’s spot on.”
I do so love associating with commoners.
I bet Bill Engvall put on of his little signs on Charles’ back!
Fat guy in a little tie . . .
This week in The Prince of Wales’ psychotic conversations with himself:
“Camilla didn’t care for Llwynywermod at first. She actually stole a pack of matches and tried to burn it down. But I “corrected” her. And when my ex-wife Diana tried to prevent me from doing my royal duties, I “corrected” her, too.”
“I’m the fucking Duke of WINDSOR; you’d think you might have tied a Windsor knot correctly in my presence, you great heaping slag!”
“I specifically ordered tea. This is bloody coffee.”
I swear all that fucking twat does is go around the world looking at stuff.
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