Omid Scobie

Now let me see… thermos of coffee, check. Cheese and ham sandwiches, check. Camping chair and blanket, check. Book…

Oh excuse me, didn’t see you there. Don’t mind me. I’m just having a final run through to make sure I’ve got everything before I leave the house. It’s for the all-night vigil outside the bookshop. I want to be the very first to get my hands on a copy of Omid Scobie’s new book ‘Endgame; Inside the Royal Family and the Monarchy’s Fight for Survival’.

I’m so excited that I’ll piss myself if I’m not careful; perhaps I should take a pair of incontinence pants along just to be on the safe side. Well it’s only natural to be excited, isn’t it? Apparently the book is what’s known as ‘a bombshell’. Mr Scabies’ no doubt meticulously researched tome will surely bring to light previously unheard facts and deep insights into the lives of the Royals, and will scupulously avoid any material which could be considered remotely contentious or sensationalistic.

If this new work even remotely compares in quality to the creepy-looking Mr Scoobie Doo’s previous megaseller ‘Finding Freedom’, I can confidentially see a Pulitzer Prize for an outstanding contribution to journalism landing in his lap. I’ll have absolutely no truck with those who accuse him of muck-racking for a fast buck, or putting the boot into the royals on behalf of his puppet-masters, the Duke and Duchess of Nutfux.

Well that’s me. Better get off so that I can get right at the front of the queue. The place is sure to be absolutely mobbed. Ta ta for now.


Nominated by Ron Knee, link by Minge Juice Bottler.

More from our Royal Reporter Ron Knee follows.

The Royal Racist

“Good afternoon. This is IsAC’s Royal correspondent Ron Knee speaking. Our followers will be aware that the publication of weirdo Omid Scobie’s new book ‘Endgame’ is again leading to speculation over the identity of the so-called ‘Royal Racist’. I’m joined by a senior member of the Royal Family, who wishes to remain anonymous, in order to set the record straight on what actually happened. Now, your…er…”

“Good afternoon. Please just refer to one as ‘X’, my good man”

“Well, your Xness, perhaps you’d care to give us your recollection of events”

“Certainly. One recalls that members of the family were taking afternoon tea in the drawing room shortly after the announcement that Meghan was (as dear Philip might have put it) ‘up the duff’. Naturally conversation turned to the er, physical features that might appertain where the child was concerned, that jolly old sort of thing, you know; all quite harmless”

“I see. Please elaborate”

“Mmm… someone raised the question of whether the child might be a ginger after its dear papa, and if a male offspring, whether he might fail prey to premature balding in later life. At that point, one ventured to wonder (quite innocently, I must emphasise) whether or not there might be a touch of the tarbrush there”

“Goodness. What happened next?”

“Well, one was immediately made aware that one might have put one’s foot in it. Her Majesty (who had graced us with her presence) pulled a face as though a malodorous guff had just been let orf under her nose, and huffed that ‘one simply didn’t make that sort of remark nowadays’. One was instantly mortified”.

“Oh dear, what an awkward moment. What happened next?”

“As you say, an awkward moment indeed. One is afraid to say that a deafening silence ensued, until a certain personage, who one shall refrain from naming, attempted to change the subject by making a speculation on Aston Villa’s prospects in something called ‘the transfer market’, one believes it was”

“How extraordinary. Did the atmosphere then return to normal?”

“Well, luck then favoured one with a most opportune distraction. One of HM’s corgis chose that moment to drop an enormous whoopsy on the carpet, necessitating the summoning of a lacky to remove the offending item. One was able to withdraw hastily to one’s private apartments for the rest of the afternoon”

“Naturally I’m sure that IsAC’s many followers will conclude that such speculation was merely the sort of thing that any family would engage in when faced with an addition to the family. All innocent and completely harmless”

“Indeed, all completely innocent and harmless, and that Scobie creature has no right to suggest otherwise. Storm in a teacup and that sort of rot. Fellow’s obviously a wrong ‘un…”

“Thank you Your Xness, for taking the time to set the record straight. This is Ron Knee, for IsAC, returning you to the studio”


One final dose on this nobody from Norman below.

Omid Scobie (and Harry and Megain) are colossal cunts.

Scobie, the chief Markle arselicker, has claimed there has been an ‘error’ in the Dutch edition of his royal sleazefest ‘Endgame’.

This ‘error’ apparently names the senior royals who were so ‘racist’ to the G-List Trailer Trash Opportunist. Of course, we still only have Megain’s word that this even actually happened, and I believe her and Hewitt’s word about as much as I believe in Father fucking Christmas. But an error and not meant? My arse. This whole thing has been arranged by those two self serving devious bastards and their author acolyte. They will now cash in on this ‘revelatory error’ just like they cash in on everything and everybody else. Only, the fuckers will deny they let the cat out of the bag and blame Scobie or the Dutch publishers. Milking it for all it’s worth, still slandering people, while trying to appear blameless and playing the victim. That is Megain and her pet Orangutan all over. Cunt, all three of them.

76 thoughts on “Omid Scobie

  1. Omid Scobie taking time off from advertising Rice Crispies.

    The Cereal Box Elf-looking cunt.

  2. Does anyone else recall the then Princess of Wales’ butler Paul Burrell? He was a right wanker. I remember him writing a column in The Daily Fail on how to eat a fucking banana with a knife and fork, like what the royals do. This sort of insight is priceless. Since reading of this, Mrs Twenty and I have never eaten bananas any other way. Then we learned that her Maj used to have a vast collection of Tupperware. Another tip from The Palace that you ignore at your peril. Stale and chewy cornflakes are a cunt.

    We “Royal watchers” have already learned that the King doesn’t like leaky fountain pens. I should bleddy well think not! If one is not careful, one can get ink all over one’s ermine.

    Finally, don’t forget to have Nanny embroider your coat of arms on your slippers otherwise they may get muddled up.

    • GB News does itself no favours having this pensioner Wanker Supreme on to comment about anything. Him and the ‘Royal Expert’ Kinsey Skofield. Christ, I fucking hate her. She knows nothing except to put on too much makeup and nance about kissing Dan Wooton’s departed arse.

  3. Not sticking up for the dirty cunt,but the evil conniving sparkeltits put the idiot up tp writing this crap you can guarrantee.

  4. Can`t blame Scobie for ‘ writing ‘ this ‘ book ‘. He can`t hawk his bum around Tangier hotels much longer.

    Obviously Wonderful Me`s puppet. She probably bums him with a strap on while yelling orders. His world will collapse when she ditches him, as she does everybody else.

    But for now he`s in with them, especially on the Gulfstream to a weekend at Fat Reg`s in the south of France. He`s the first in the paddling pool.

  5. Good results tonight, Ron.

    After tonight, Pep’s dummy will still be firmly on the floor. From where it was spat out against Tottenham.

    • Aye up Norman.

      Yes good stuff indeed. Great to put it over Shitty, the chancing bastards.

      Hard to believe that Emery’s just completed his first year at the helm. The transformation he and his management team have achieved is quite remarkable, esp.given the mess that Slippery Stevie left behind.

      Utd looking handily placed at the mo as well.

  6. I’ve created a profile on the NY Post so I can reply to Meghan’s unhinged ‘Guest Speaker’ rants. It gives me great satisfaction to throw her woke fuckery right back in her plastic, duplicitous face.

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