If the queen of England were a sport, she would be golf. So boring, so deadly, absolute snooze a thon.
Its not just her, it’s the whole f’ing family. Prince Phillip? A walking sleeping pill. Prince Charles? He put more people to sleep then Jim Jones. Now his sons are pretty cool.
And Diana obviously captured the world. But since Charles couldn’t deal with anyone remotely interesting, he divorced her. His current squeeze, Camilla, doesn’t she look fascinating?
The job of this family apparently is to attend special events, and robotically wave to the filthy masses. That’s what they do. That’s their whole day. And then they punch out and go home!
Here’s what I want, no here’s what I pray for. Number one, in a very public place, I want the Queen to blast a deadly fart for the world to hear. I want her skirts to flap.
Number two, I want Liz to put up her hair curlers and drive to the local grocery store and buy a case of Twinkies. Maybe Britain is open carry and she can strap on her AK47.
I want her to get stuck in a traffic jam on the way home, a cigarette dangling from her mouth, swearing up a storm and threatening other motorists.
Number 3, and most important. I want her to get caught tying up her man servant in the Royal chambers, with a lash in one hand and a can of whipped cream in the other. That, my friends would make me happy.
Seriously, if you are that boring how do you stay alive? How does your respiratory system stay interested enough to respire?
The bad news? They have been around forever and they will stay with us forever. And women, yes women, will spend billions of dollars on new TV sets every time one of them gets married.
I wanna be sedated.