The British dailies are generally scum-sucking, low-level, trash-scouring rags that wouldn’t be fit to stuff up a Prince’s mistress as a tampon.
And that’s what I love about them.
But they were suddenly oh so tasteful when those bare-bum photos of Prince Harry emerged from a Vegas game of “strip billiards,” where the balls were clearly rolling into side pockets (though, as you’ll recall, he was cupping the family jewels when the camera was aimed at him, ever the gentleman).
You see, an edict had come down from the royal family’s lawyers that the British press should stay mum on this recreational horror, as the way to deal with a royal being human and having a good time is to simply block it out from the public’s view and pretend it never happened!
The only problem with that is, thanks to the Internet, the entire world had already looked at the pictures over and over again–including Queenie herself, no doubt, who must have marveled at her grandson’s chicken-stick legs and pasty white ass.
So The Sun decided, “Ah, fuck it, we’re running the photos.”
And they’re right.
Why should the press stay complicit in the royal family’s power to censor the truth about their own brood?
The story was definitely reportable, and the royal thugs will simply have to relax their tiaras and get over it already.
What happens in Vegas shouldn’t stay in Vegas!