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.
Standard
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”
Mirror
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.
