In the spirit of not interrupting the enemy when they’re making a mistake, I kept quiet while Harry and the Halfblood wife flew to Africa to lecture the people who’d stayed at home about the badness of tourism.
I kept my inquiries to myself, as to whether private-jet-owner Elton John had fluffed Halfblood in the same way he had done her dead mother-law, with the same obsequious degeneracy.
I emitted a shameful personal chuckle when they sued the newspapers. It was perfect. The woe about the clicking of cameras. The prospect of how much woe there’ll be if the cameras fall silent.
So I’m now delighted that Buckingham Palace has announced that Prince Harry is flying to Japan to support England at the world cup finals of egg-chasing.
I’m sure the countless thousands of fans who can only dream of dropping more than £10,000 on a whimsical weekend trip to Japan will be delighted to hear that our ginger lord and saviour is able to attend on all our behalf.
I did wonder what became of Gerald Ratner, but now I know. He’s Harry’s PR.
Crack on, Gerry, son. Crack on.
One thought on “Right, you can fuck off now, Harry…”
Of no real consequence, however the term I was taught to use for his spouce is Mulatto – and the sprog is a Quadroon.