The new favorite game in jolly ol’ England is to count the ways Duchess Meghan is bringing the monarchy to its knees with her media-whoring family, her harlot sleeveless dresses, and her dastardly move to hop into the Royal Kia before THE QUEEN had a chance to park her royal keister. How dare that tart of an American woman! Well, now some are saying her latest imposter du jour move is ripped straight from the Madonna playbook because she greeted the people with what some are saying is a phony British accent. Luckily for all of you, I have watched this video approximately 30 times more than any reasonable human ever should and have PLENTY of thoughts!
People says some woman who was in the crowd for a royal visit to Cheshire last month posted a video of Meghan basically doing her normal bout of small talk before she could barrel past QE2 to the backseat and hightail it out of there to the nearest shower and wash away the commoner stench. See for yourself her attempt at a “British” accent:
Meghan said my name, that’s me done? pic.twitter.com/167F2ubjUh
— Aya El Zeiny (@elzeiny99) June 14, 2018
First, I am pretty sure Meghan has been instructed to talk about nothing except her wedding and the weather, which, honestly, is the same instruction half my aunts give to their daughters at Thanksgiving dinner. Second, I get a little of a cringeworthy British accent, but I mostly get her trying to hold back from saying, “I know, riiiiight?” at the :18 second mark after some plebeian tells her she’s gorgeous.
Trust me, coming from someone who cleared through two seasons of Suits a week ago (don’t blame me…blame the TVs on JetBlue), Duchess Meghan’s accent sounds a lot different than Rachel Zane’s. Some people note this is because she is “immersing herself” in lessons about the responsibilities of being a duchess. I think it’s that her voice probably just gained a stunned lilt when they got to the lesson that the only responsibilities a duchess had to worry about were to get boned raw by Prince Harry and wear designer outfits. Meanwhile, my voice gained a somber Oliver Twist accent realizing the only designer outfits I will ever wear will come from the bargain bin at T.J. Maxx and that I’ll never get boned raw by Prince Harry.