Sycophants 'R' Us.

I’m a bit pissed off at the moment as I never got an invitation to Charlie’s birthday bash, especially as, like so many other old pricks pensioners, I spent part of my gas bill money on sending him a little present and greetings card. 

Still I’ve cheered up a bit now that I’ve seen his birthday portrait. Bugger me ! .. he must have a bloody big   ‘dressing up’ box, and how about all those medals, orders and other decorations given to him by his mum ? … Blimey ! .. you wouldn’t need a Christmas tree with him around.

His mum gave him his first medal when he was three and he attended her coronation, and she has been hanging them all over him ever since: but what puzzles me is how he got hold of New Zealand and Canadian ‘gongs’, including a long service clasp on The Canadian Forces Decoration. I know that he was pissing about pretending to be a sailor for a time, but I don’t remember him serving with any of those ‘colonial type’ chappies.

I see that, as usual, his mum read a little speech in praise of her eldest offspring earlier in the week, and the PR parasites at the palace worked overtime to re-invent the silly old sod as Britain’s answer to Mother Teresa, with all those references to his “hard work” for charity etc. Unfortunately the word ‘work’ and ‘prince’ don’t sit comfortably together.

Perhaps it might help his image if he added …

…  a nun’s habit to his dressing up kit.