Prince Hot Ginge and Duchess Meghan’s all-star royal wedding spectacular may have been stuffed full of more celebrities than the damn Met Gala, and brought out the likes of The Mighty O and Tom Hardy, who became all of us by falling asleep with his eyes open. But Princess Eugenie had Naomi Campbell on her wedding guest list today. The St. George’s Chapel at Windsor Castle was probably filled with the clickity clack sounds of Prince Hot Ginge and Duchess Meghan furiously pounding away at their iPhones while rage-texting their wedding guest booker for not getting them THEE Naomi Campbell.
If animal control gets a call about a mangled, chewed-up worm wandering the streets of Southern California somewhere, can they please lure it over to them by waving a peen picture at it and then drop it in an envelope and mail it to me? That’s my b-hole. It jumped off of my ass after I read the words “PRINCE HARRY” and “SEX TAPE” in the same headline.
Shifty headline writers toyed with my emotions this morning when they wrote that Prince Hot Ginge and his on-and-off again piece Cressida Bonas enjoyed a sex tape together. The bad news is that PHG didn’t make a sex tape (as far as we know). The good news is that our down low parts are safe, because they’re not going to explode as we watch PHG hump on Cressida Boners while wearing a scrunchie cock ring. PHG and Cressida only went to see the movie Sex Tape together. The Sun (via The Telegraph) says that PHG and Toyota Cressida recently sat together in a darkened theater while watching Cameron Diaz and Jason Segel bone. PHG left in a car driven by his security team and Cressida left in a taxi. A source says that the night before, Cressida was at PHG’s 30th birthday party.
Pieces of ovaries are scattered all over the streets of London today, because Prince Hot Ginge played with a bunch of school children at the newly renovated Queen Elizabeth Olympic Park. Chirrun screaming and screeching while playing in a park is a nightmare come to life to me, but throw in a giggling PHG in a suit and suddenly it’s a wonderful dream that made ovaries I didn’t know I had explode. In 80 years when all of those children are on their death beds, they will reflect on their lives and say that the best moment was when they made PHG do an ugly giggle while pushing him on a swing in the park. PHG gave them that, but I hope he also shared his wisdom with them by teaching them how to snort vodka like a pro.
In other PHG news, The Daily Mail says that the Earth may soon have tiny royal gingerlings running around it, because he’s really close to proposing to his piece Cressida Bonas and he can’t wait to get married and have kids. A source close to Cressida’s family (read: her fucking scrunchie) said that the family has been having meetings to talk about the engagement:
“There is a family gathering to discuss an engagement. The announcement will be sooner than many people think. Harry and Cressida will be married. It is all going ahead. It is just a matter of time. Cressie is going to marry Harry. Harry never stops talking about marriage and children, and she’s now got used to the idea. The wedding is likely to take place next year.”
This feels like that Kate Middleton shit all over again. Kate Middleton’s family kept leaking stories to the tabloids about how Prince William was going to put a ring on it at any minute. That mess dragged on forever. I hope PHG doesn’t drag this mess out and either dumps Toyota Cressida for my drunk naranja angel Chelsy Davy or marries her ass.
We’ll be hit with engagement rumor after engagement rumor until PHG puts a ring on Cressida’s finger because he’s sick of THE QUEEN popping her head into his room while they’re boning to make sure the rubber is on tight. THE QUEEN doesn’t want little bastards ruining the pristine royal image of her family. Too late, QUEEN, because I’m sure a lot of us are already pregnant with a litter of royal gingers after looking at these pictures. I did feel a kick, but that could be from the raw hot dogs I ate for lunch.
That bro throwing a “Wassup?” face is really what makes this picture a portrait of true royal romance.
Cressida Boners (which is also a condition Toyota fanboys suffer from when they go to the Detroit Auto Show) and Prince Hot Ginge made their first public appearance together at the inaugural WE Day UK at Wembley Arena in London today, and she took advantage of their time in public to kiss his cheek in front of the photographers. Cressida Boners has been at the forefront of the highly important Bring Back The Scrunchie Movement, so I want to like her, but she’s making it really hard. I just can’t trust a trick who doesn’t immediately give birth to four oceans of panty pudding when her lips touch any part of PHG. I’ve been refreshing the BBC’s site all morning and I don’t see any reports of panty pudding flooding at Wembley Arena, so it seems like Cressida didn’t have a natural reaction to cheek kissing PHG. When a chick kisses PHG, her coochie should be barfing like a Lard-Ass at a pie-eating contest. That is a normal reaction! The hell is wrong with her? She’s either a robot made of metal parts or she’s wearing a 10-gallon Diva Cup to make sure her panty pudding doesn’t squirt everywhere.
Cressida and PHG making their FIRST PUBLIC APPEARANCE AS A COUPLE!!! means that my hope of seeing permanently hungover mess Chelsy Davy as a British princess is probably not going to happen. Cressida Boners doesn’t have that gorgeous “just woke up in a puddle of her drunk barf on the floor of a pub bathroom” look that Chelsy does, but PHG could do worse. At least he’s not dating that orange Styrofoam peanut Pippa Middleton.
And no, that picture does not make me want to sharpen my shake. I’m not jealous of that tramp at all! If you replaced Cressida with me, PHG with my Ashton Drake Prince Harry Doll and all those people with the wrappers of the Snickers I eat to drown my feelings, you’d have my Saturday night.
Well, I guess my wet dream of Prince Hot Ginge realizing that he should stop denying his feelings and marry his only true love, a 1 gallon jug of vodka, is not going to come true. Because The Telegraph says that he wants to make his piece Cressida Bonas Britain’s next princess and she’s come around to the idea of marrying PHG and letting him bareback fuck a scrunchie-wearing ginger baby into her womb. 24-year-old Cressida is some kind of free-spirit who always thought she was too young to get married, but she’s kind of into it now. The source said:
“Cressie is going to marry Harry. Harry never stops talking about marriage and children, and she has now got used to the idea. The wedding is likely to take place next year.”
“Got used to the idea….” Either Toyota Cressida’s battery is dead and she’s void of feelings inside or she’s a hipster to the bone who is pretending to be “eh” about becoming PHG’s wife. Because the only natural reaction to PHG telling you that he wants to bone you non-stop until a baby’s head is pushing his ginger rod out of you IS to turn into a squirting panty pudding fountain of excitement. Something is really wrong with you when your ovaries don’t jump out of your cooch and attack PHG’s crotch after he tells you he wants to make babies with you. THE QUEEN better keep a side-eye or two on Toyota Cressida, because she’s obviously a spy for the Slytherins.
But I could get “used to the idea” of Toyota Cressida being a princess. I mean, the British monarchy needs a royal who dresses like a cross between Shannen Doherty in Heathers and Shannen Doherty in the first season of Beverly Hills 90210, and it definitely needs a royal whose official title is HRH Duchess Boners.
And here’s PHG giving us some Officer and a Gingerman shit at the Australian Navy’s “International Fleet Review” on Sydney Harbour two days ago.
Some fancy, hoity-toity ass British society wedding went down in England today and all the pinkies when up when Prince Hot Ginge came sashaying through with a twinkle in his eye that said, “Your ovaries: they are exploding, I know. Send me your gyno bill.” And by “pinkies” I mean clits. I mean, a clitoris is pretty much a vagina pinky.
On a real-life episode of Downton Abbey today, Lady Melissa Percy married Thomas van Straubenzee and I can’t believe Maggie Smith wasn’t there to roll her eyes at all of it. That should be a law. Anytime there’s a British society wedding, Maggie Smith SHOULD be there. But anyway, PHG was there and so was his current piece Cressida Bonas (aka THAT SKANK) and his ex-piece Chelsy Davy. Of course Cressida and Chelsy didn’t tear each other’s facesoff while trying to get on PHG’s crotch. Chelsy would never. She’s a true lady. She was probably too busy getting drunk on champagne and giving a quick handy to one of the groomsmen in the bathroom. I still don’t know why PHG stopped humping on Chelsy. She was always my favorite. She looks like she smells like vodka, drugstore foundation, old cigarettes and dried mascara clumps. Who wouldn’t want to inhale that all the time? Chelsy Davy looks like a piece of dried bronzer crust with blond hair. PHG is dim in the brains for letting that go.
Duchess Kate’s vagina royale is weeks away from shooting out the heir to the throne, so she wasn’t there, but Prince William and his bald spot were and so was Pippa Middleton, which isn’t surprising considering that cameras were there. If you ever want to see Pippa in the flesh for some reason, just pull out your camera and she’ll be there. But Pippa did wear this mess on her head:
The hell is that on her head?! It looks like two pigeon skeletons cumming out a pile of coagulated jizz balls. It looks like a silver tarantula foaming at the mouth. I bet the wedding had to be stopped halfway through because a flock of birds broke into the church to save their distressed loved on Pippa’s head. I swear, Pippa always has to make it all about her.