I was all about to cynically hate on Duchess Meghan for saying FUCK YES to the dress with her eyes, but I cannot blame her. My eyes would transform into exploding 4,000 watt Philips Hue light bulbs (in shade: hot ginger) if I was looking at the outfit I was going to wear on the day that I could say goodbye to seeing a late fee on a credit card bill and say hello to happily spreading burn cream on my lips (you decide which ones) after rubbing ’em on the royal ginger crotch scepter every night.
I’m sure that as soon as Duchess Meghan and Prince Hot Ginge officially became heir-producing machines by getting married, THE QUEEN would greet Meghan by sniffing her crotch for possible period blood fumes, and would regularly pop up at the foot of their bed with a bottle of Spanish Fly, a bluetooth speaker blasting some Barry White, and a sparkle in her eye that says, “Time to make the squishy squishy and give the monarch another royal.” Because Meghan’s job, besides brushing her hair 500 times until it’s princess perfect shiny and selling out clothes, is to pussy pop out another royal. Well, some think that Meghan may be close to fulfilling that job requirement just a few months after getting married.
When Prince Hot Ginge told Duchess Meghan that they were going to the THI-TURR last night, she must’ve figured they were going to go see Chicago, because she looked like she was ten seconds away from swirling out a Bob Fosse jazz hand while singing, “… the name on everybody’s lips is gonna be MEY-GHAN!” (see: the Roxie Hart shit she wore to the theater in the video after the cut). But they went to see Hamilton instead. The performance was a gala to raise money for PHG’s charity Sentebale, which helps children and young people living with HIV in Lesotho and Botswana. At the end of the show, PHG got onstage to thank everyone and while up there, he crooned out bits of a Hamilton song into a mic. That mic is now pregnant with little ginger mic babies. Those ginger mic babies will be seventh in line to the throne.
The poor folks who live in their mansions along Lake Como likely just want to rest easy on the weekends, smoke some ciggs, fuck their lovers or spouses (or both!) and down carafes of red wine – y’know, the typical Italian pastimes. Alas, ever since George Clooney showed up years ago, it’s been nothing but Casamigos-branded shit and starfuckers galore – and that’s just when the Crawford-Gerbers show up! Well, now we can add Prince Hot Ginge and Duchess Meghan to the list of celebrities (fine…royalty…) who are invading the shores for the weekend.
Outside of Buckingham Palace right now, THE QUEEN has tossed her crown inside and pulled out a matchbook as her minions pour gasoline all around that joint. THE QUEEN will then light the match, throw it at that bitch, and as it burns down, she’ll strut away from her former royal life and into her new life as a commoner Corgi farmer in the countryside. Because the monarchy is close to being a thing of the past thanks to Duchess Meghan continually dropping a treasonous shit on royal protocol.
Meghan has already made the ghosts of past royals queef out a dusty cloud of outrage by baring her American hussy trollop shoulders at an event, getting into a car before THE QUEEN, crossing her legs, and brushing Prince Hot Ginge’s freckled paw at work. And now The Daily Mail has more proof that Meghan is probably a secret agent for Morrissey who is bringing down the royal family from the inside. PHG and “royal aides” are not amused with Meghan always wearing pants.
If you see a light on at Kensington Palace well into the wee hours of the night these days, it’s probably Duchess Kate watching Suits on Amazon Prime with her staff having a good laugh and cackling, “And to think they thought I was the commoner?!” But if you see TWO lights on, it’s because Duchess Meghan is up late freaking out that her dad, Thomas Markle, might blab even more “secrets” about her. Continue reading