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.
THE QUEEN has won again! Because THE QUEEN remains the head bitch of the royal family and when she tells you that the ginger muff on your face offends her retinas and if you don’t take a razor to it she’ll cut your vodka allowance in half, Prince Hot Ginge shaved off his glorious beard. An Instagrammer took this crystal clear HD picture of PHG and his security guards at a juice bar. The picture is so blurry that it could be Rojo Caliente playing Mahjong in a White Castle for all we know, but I don’t see a floating halo or angel wings, so it’s probably PHG. And now if you’ll excuse me I have to check eBay to see if PHG had his shaved-off beard hairs braided into a thong that he’s auctioning off for charity.
If that polar vortex (which sounds like a fancy name for one of Nicole Kidman’s queefs) has put a thick layer of ice on your b-hole, then take those chonies off and warm it on Prince Hot Ginge’s fire beard while you still can. Because The Express (via Jezebel) has heard from “royal sources” (aka that gossiping, shady whore Camilla) that THE QUEEN hates the fiery field of ginger hairs all over Prince Hot Ginge’s face and has ordered him to take a razor to it. The Queen thinks beards look scruffy and she doesn’t let any member of her palace staff grow one. The Queen has even been known to pull tweezers out of her pocket book and pluck the thick stache hairs above Camilla’s mouth during dinner. No face hair for THE QUEEN! PHG knows that his memaw wants the beard gone, but he’s waiting to show it to his piece Cressida Boners before he gets rid of it. (Translation: PHG wants his piece to brush her coochie lips with his beard before he gets rid of it.) The royal source said this:
“The rest of the family liked it and were taking the mickey, especially his cousin Zara who dubbed him ‘Prince Hairy.’ But the Queen soon let her displeasure be known. She doesn’t mind royal men growing beards when they are away in the Armed Forces or out in the wilds like Harry was in the Antarctic, but she expects them to be clean-shaven when they get home. Royal staff are not supposed to grow beards or moustaches and she probably thinks it is difficult to enforce that rule when her own grandson has a beard. Harry doesn’t like to upset the Queen and will probably shave it off soon but he is still a bit of a rebel and he wasn’t going to remove it straight away. He wanted to show it off to Cressida first and see what she thought of it.”
With that beard, PHG sort of looks like a failed pro baseball player turned shady bail bondsman who turned to the bottle after his second marriage ended and regularly gets kicked out of bars for pissing on the floor and making out with the jukebox. What I’m saying is that the beard is hot, but now that I know that THE QUEEN hates it, it’s even hotter. Defy THE QUEEN with that beard, PHG!
And I am only okay with PHG shaving his beard off if he sells the hair on eBay. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to sell everything I have to buy his shaved-off beard hair and I have to do a little research on how to make anal beads out of shaved-off beard hair.
And if you don’t celebrate Christmas, then Prince Hot Ginge’s piping hot beard would like to wish you a Merry Wednesday!
But if you do celebrate the day we all get each other gift cards to Bed, Bath and Beyond, because we just CAN’T with shopping, then you might be drunk from guzzling down gallons of sweet nectar and processed sugar to deal with spending a full day indoors with your family. Grab another bottle, sit back and roast your chestnuts on the open fire growing on Prince Hot Ginge’s beautiful face. That ginger neck beard could give Lucifer the sweats.
PHG, Prince William, Duchess Kate, Prince Charles, Princess Beatrice, Duchess Cumilla, some other royal whores and THE QUEEN all took their asses to The Church of St Mary Magdalene for Christmas Day service today. Little Prince George didn’t come, because Prince Philip was there, so they already had a baldie who’d fall asleep, cry out of boredom, slobber and fart. They didn’t need two.
And seeing Prince William touch Prince Hot Ginge’s glorious, luscious hairy beard of fire makes me think to myself, “Prince William’s finger: I’d hit it until his nail popped off.”
Pics: AP, Splash
I interrupt this International Merry Beymas Day to bring you news that is much more relevant and important (cut to the lightning bold headed toward me for hating on King Beysus again): PRINCE HOT GINGE IS ALIVE AND MADE IT THE SOUTH POLE! (Insert obligatory line about how I wish he would’ve traveled to my South Hole instead…)
After four long weeks of trekking his ass through Antarctica and knocking penguins up by winking at them and adding to global warming by melting the ice caps with his hotness, PHG and his team of wounded ex-servicemen and women made it the South Pole. PHG was racing to the South Pole against teams led by ASkars and Dominic Cooper, but that race was called off, because the weather was a real bitch. So the new goal was to just get to the finish line. PHG wrote this on the Walking with the Wounded site before they got to the finish line:
All 12 of [my teammates] have different reasons for being here and I don’t think it’s necessarily something that for all of them that it will, either tonight or tomorrow or when they get back home, but what an amazing journey for every single one of them and this charity really does do amazing things. It’s not just for the small minority that are here but hopefully in time to come through the documentary, and all the stories back home. It will just prove to everybody that there’s so much that can be made possible when you think that nothing is left.
But I’m so proud, I’m so chuffed and I’m so privileged to be here with all these guys and girls, and well done to Ed and Dags and everyone who’s organised this, what an amazing accomplishment. I think we’ll be having a few whiskies tonight and then everyone’s looking forward to getting home.
I was about to say that after spending some time with that picture of PHG and his ginger beard, I am chuffed too, but then I looked it up the word and it doesn’t mean what I think it means.
Here’s a video of PHG and his team making it to the end.
Once they got to the end and found that gazing ball waiting for them, they probably thought to themselves that even in the goddamn South Pole they can’t escape the artistry of CaCa and Koons.
While Prince George laid around his palace in his sharp-as-fuck christening gown (Note: When life gives you a stunning and luxurious christening gown like that, you never take it off until your growing limbs bust the seams), his mom and dad waved, smiled, waved, smiled, waved, smiled and waved some more at their day job in London this morning. Duchess Kate and Prince William took a bus ride with servicemen and women for London Poppy Day, which is the day that all Brits celebrate Poppy Pomfrey. No, London Poppy Day is a day when volunteers at tube and railway stations try to raise £1 million in one day for Poppy Appeal, a charity that helps military families. And just because I want to type the word “poppy” one more time: POPPY.
Hair dye and brown hair mascara sales dropped to record lows today when everybody saw Duchess Kate’s grey roots on her 1975 Kate Jackson hair. The top of Duchess Kate’s head was almost as shiny as the top of Prince William’s bald globe. The Daily Mail raised a magnifying glass from their Detective La Toya starter kit and got to the bottom of this! They brought up these highly important points:
Grey hair not directly associated with pregnancy
Many women find hair feels and looks thinner after having a baby
Some mothers avoid dyeing hair while pregnant or breastfeeding
Or maybe she’s just had grey hair for a while and we’ve never seen it because she’s always got a hat that looks like a stuffed pancake on her head. But really, I’m sure that’s not grey hair. Since Duchess Kate is a royal now, liquid diamonds flow through her insides and sometimes they overflow and seep out of her skull. Whatever the case may be, silver Sharpies and Wite-Out are already sold out, because EVERYONE wants silvery grey roots now. Silvery grey roots are so now.
Here’s more of Duchess Kate and Prince William riding the bus today. I also threw in some pictures of my favorite Poppy Chulo honoring fallen soldiers at the Field of Remembrance in London today:
Not pictured: THE QUEEN making a “You BETTA recognize, hussy” face.
Who knew that British royals are just like us! They also have to bow their heads down to their abuelitas or face the wrath of the pocketbook (the pocketbook is the British royals’ answer to the chancleta). I spent way too much time focusing on Prince George’s sharp-as-shit christening gown, so I completely forgot to add this video of the royals air kissing and bowing down to THE QUEEN at his christening in London today. My favorite part is when Prince George glides in and gets into a stare down contest with THE QUEEN. (Spoiler alert: THE QUEEN won.)
Prince William is trying to make it look like Prince George is waving, but it looks more like he’s nonchalantly playing a tiny invisible piano with one hand.
Once inside the chapel, Prince George was christened with water from the River Jordan. I’m guessing that by “the River Jordan” they mean Katie Price’s bathwater, right? And right after the River Jordan water was poured on Prince George’s head, PHG let out a stream of giggles, because he swapped that river water with vodka.
Duchess Kate thinks she’s the only British royal who can sell out a piece of clothing just by wearing it, but she’s dead wrong. Yes, thousands of her subjects are running to their local bakery to buy a mound of bread dough after seeing Duchess Kate wear one on her head at Prince George’s Christian orientation/hazing ceremony in the Chapel Royal at St James’s Palace in London today. But even more people are furiously searching the Internet to find out who designed Prince George’s luxurious lace gown, because they want it. Well, sorry wannabes, but that shit is vintage and no, you can’t buy it at Decades or one of those other fancy shops where rich hos buy used clothes for thousands of dollars. Prince George’s shit is a family heirloom and a one-of-a-kind design, bitches.
The BBC says that Prince George’s gown is a replica of the lace and satin christening gown made for Queen Victoria’s eldest daughter, Victoria, the Princess Royal, in 1841. Prince Hot Ginge (see him working it here) and every other royal has worn that same christening gown since then. The design is stunning and that train elongates Prince George’s legs so he looks five feet tall instead of one foot tall (or however the hell tall he is). Expect Tommy Girl to try that “train makes your legs look longer” trick. And Prince George knows that he’s got this and he’s already looking down at Suri Cruise, Blue Ivy Carter and North West from the top of Vogue Bambini’s Best Dressed Baby Child In The WORLD list.
And because he’s the future King of England and has to do everything extra, Prince George has seven godparents who will be his spiritual advisors and guide him through life. They are:
No, I wish. The real list is here. No Jodie Marsh! No Prince Hot Ginge! Can you believe that shit? That list sucks. The only person I know on that list is Zara Phillips and that’s because I once bought a coat half price at her store in the Menlo Park Mall in New Jersey.
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.
While working a glistening (aka sweaty) “just got drunk at the beach” glow, Prince Hot Ginge and his caramel Jelly Belly teeth made an appearance at an event for his charity Sentebale in London tonight and of course all the damn reporters asked him about the future King of England. They should’ve asked PHG what he was drinking, because he looked like a beautiful shade of DRUNK. But they asked him about the baby and he said that the baby is a baby and that he’s going to make sure that Prince George knows how to snort vodka properly.
“When I saw him he was crying his eyes out like all babies do, I suppose. It’s fantastic to have another addition to the family. I only hope my brother knows how expensive my baby-sitting charges are. [My role as an uncle is] to make sure he has a good upbringing, to keep him out of harm’s way, and make sure he has fun. The rest of it I leave to the parents.”
And here’s the video of PHG saying those things.
To answer the question that you’re going to ask. No, that creepy guy with the half-Friar Tuck silver ‘do who’s petting PHG’s face with his eyes is not me.