Prince Charles...

is quite the dimwit. Apparently the man is so lazy he has someone squeeze his toothpaste for him (this is no smutty 'oo err' reference, so stop that now) and once when he needed to give a urine sample some poor servant had to hold the bottle. He and his two pampered sons have just been on the six o'clock news on a skiing holiday at Klosters/Kloisters somewhere in the European highlands. He was asked a question and began to whine about reporters. He sat there and complained at having to answer a few suck up questions from an over respectful press before swanning off for a day's skiing. PAID FOR BY US!!!!!

I should have turned off the tv but like a fool I didn't. The Royals infuriate me. Apparently Buckingham Palace has 1000 rooms inside, why? They can't use them all, I bet the Queen has never set one foot in the majority of them. Most of us make do with a modest four, five or even six room houses, okay possibly even seven but 1000! The Royals however are not like us, the greedy blood sucking parasites. If the Royals want a home well then that'll be a thousand rooms thank you very much, and let's not spare the labour. A trip down the Mall in London or the west side of Hyde Park will show you some of the smaller palaces these fuckers own. Or rather we own and pay for and they live in. Oh dear, oh dear, I'm off on one now, an anti-royal rant is just too easy. Like shooting fish in a barrel. And speaking of shooting I'm with the Bolsheviks on this (as I am on most things). The best condition in which to encounter a royal is when they're in the shot condition, fiscally it's also very responsible because with shot royals maintainance costs are low.

And whilst we're on the matter of Klosters, or Kloisters, doesn't that name sound just a little too much like 'cloisters'? Public school, dark evenings, dim corners, sweaty fumbles, master coming, ears tweeked, swish of cane, voices 'eeeeked', sent on way, botty sore, maybe oh maybe wanting more...

In fact their discomfort on that bench in Cloisters is perhaps unsurprising. With head so far up arse who knows what memories were being stirred by sitting on treated wood.