If this has been posted, my apologies but…
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Paul Breach could play Hazza?
Shot for every time he mentions Suits.
.
.
Harry and Meghan #299 - Giving us all the Ick by putting his Mummy’s face cream on his Dick
She promoted the '' The Rules'' book on Tig.
So you are right.
Hewitt is Di's baby daddy
No thanks, I’d like to live and not die in an alcoholic coma….Shot for every time he mentions Suits.
One of my acquaintances is a ghostwriter and he said as a ghostwriter you need to either increase your level of writing or reduce it, based on who you are writing for.
So, in the first book, he ghost wrote he sounded like Phil Knight. Who is quite intelligent, interesting and of course succesful.
This book. Well, he sounds like Harry.
If the ghostwriter indeed did this work he did an excellent job because he didn't distort how Harry sounds and acts to the whole world. Like an idiot.
Harry and Meghan #299 did you know she was in Suits?
I gave the therapist an overview of how this dehumanization had played out in the first half of my life. But now, with the dehumanizing of Meg, there was so much more hate, more vitriol—plus racism.
I told her what I’d seen, heard, witnessed, over the last few months. At one point I sat up on the couch, crooked my neck to see if she was listening. Her mouth was hanging open. A lifelong resident of Britain, she’d thought she knew. She didn’t know. At the end of the session I asked her professional opinion: Is what I’m feeling…normal? She laughed. What’s normal anyway?
But she conceded that one thing was abundantly clear: I found myself in highly unusual circumstances. Do you think I have an addictive personality? More accurately, what I wanted to know was, if I did have an addictive personality, where would I be right now? Hard to say. Hypotheticals, you know.
She asked if I’d used drugs. Yes. I told her some wild stories. Well, I am rather surprised you’re not a drug addict. If there was one thing to which I did seem undeniably addicted, however, it was the press. Reading it, raging at it, she said, these were obvious compulsions. I laughed. True. But they’re such tit. She laughed. They are.
Prince Harry, The Duke of Sussex.
I told her what I’d seen, heard, witnessed, over the last few months. At one point I sat up on the couch, crooked my neck to see if she was listening. Her mouth was hanging open. A lifelong resident of Britain, she’d thought she knew. She didn’t know. At the end of the session I asked her professional opinion: Is what I’m feeling…normal? She laughed. What’s normal anyway?
But she conceded that one thing was abundantly clear: I found myself in highly unusual circumstances. Do you think I have an addictive personality? More accurately, what I wanted to know was, if I did have an addictive personality, where would I be right now? Hard to say. Hypotheticals, you know.
She asked if I’d used drugs. Yes. I told her some wild stories. Well, I am rather surprised you’re not a drug addict. If there was one thing to which I did seem undeniably addicted, however, it was the press. Reading it, raging at it, she said, these were obvious compulsions. I laughed. True. But they’re such tit. She laughed. They are.
Prince Harry, The Duke of Sussex.
Erm…. Me. For a couple of series. Gabriel Macht . Yum
Smeg was a very second level player, very wooden, two-dimensional and a bit shiny/sweaty looking. I thought she was prob Latino
Didn't they leave before the bullying incident? It came to light just days before the OW interview. Or have I got that wrong
Yes Harry, that's exactly what love is.
How has it taken you so long to work it out?
I can barely wait for their Wellness book.
It was that very day.
"Alleviate Poverty Worldwide" virtue bag signalling whilst stomping about outside the DM in her Hunters. duck off luv
Thanks to everyone for all the updates! I've been busy with real life but dipping in and out. Generally too much information from Hazza - frostbitten penis etc. Today, he has been quite intrusive...
Hazza's doppelganger turned up at my workplace, must have been an omen.
At lunchtime, I went into WH Smith. The book was displayed on a small table - price £14. The woman in front of me at the checkout was buying the book. The conversation went as follows:
Customer: I watched the interview, he ain't coming back from that.
Cashier: Yeah, he ain't coming back from that.
Customer: I'm glad I've got it, my husband really wants to read it.
Cashier: We've been open 4 hours and sold 30 copies.
On the way home I was stuck in traffic listening to Vanessa Feltz on the radio who said she had a free copy of the book and had read a couple of pages, but was reserving judgement. She was talking to someone called Charles (not the Charles) and I was given a blow by blow account of how Minge was waylaid by plebs with mobile phones in Kensington High Street. She returned to Nott Cott rustled up a gourmet meal and then fell to the floor sobbing just in time for the return of Hazza. Hmmm.
Luckily, when I got home my friend had sent me the photo of William captioned knock-down ginger champion as a palate cleanse.
ETA See the above post by @Anna2020 for the Kensington High St incident in full.
Hazza's doppelganger turned up at my workplace, must have been an omen.
At lunchtime, I went into WH Smith. The book was displayed on a small table - price £14. The woman in front of me at the checkout was buying the book. The conversation went as follows:
Customer: I watched the interview, he ain't coming back from that.
Cashier: Yeah, he ain't coming back from that.
Customer: I'm glad I've got it, my husband really wants to read it.
Cashier: We've been open 4 hours and sold 30 copies.
On the way home I was stuck in traffic listening to Vanessa Feltz on the radio who said she had a free copy of the book and had read a couple of pages, but was reserving judgement. She was talking to someone called Charles (not the Charles) and I was given a blow by blow account of how Minge was waylaid by plebs with mobile phones in Kensington High Street. She returned to Nott Cott rustled up a gourmet meal and then fell to the floor sobbing just in time for the return of Hazza. Hmmm.
Luckily, when I got home my friend had sent me the photo of William captioned knock-down ginger champion as a palate cleanse.
ETA See the above post by @Anna2020 for the Kensington High St incident in full.
I hadn’t watched it at the time she was dating him etc but I did start after the engagement was announced out of interest, and I’m convinced she still thinks she’s actually Rachel Zane!
Not the food she made or the wine or the tequila that made her sick.Oh but of course it had to be stated that it was “British” Calamari that made her sick, swear to god starting to feel like William, it’s either his or this little islands fault, or those who do their job on said isle, bore off Jackanory.
A language barrier when you both speak English?
Classic narc - you misunderstood me - you overreacted - you were oversensitive- you are to blame.
Stonewall silence to regain control
Victim trauma bonded wants to do anything to please narc so will apologise to narc and take the blame.
Regain control further with the threat of leaving if you don't comply.
Don't express your opinion or feelings Don't challenge the narc do as I say not as I do
I watched the couple first seasons of Suits but stopped, it got boring and repetitive, even if Gabriel Macht was hot. Rachel/Megs was just annoying AF.
All my life I’d told people I couldn’t remember the past, couldn’t remember my mum, but I never gave anyone the full picture. My memory was dead. Now, through months of therapy, my memory twitched, kicked, sputtered. It came to life.
Some days I’d open my eyes to find Mummy…standing before me.
A thousand images returned, some so bright and vivid that they were like holograms. I remembered mornings in Mummy’s apartment at Kensington Palace, the nanny waking Willy and me, helping us down to Mummy’s bedroom. I remembered that she had a waterbed, and Willy and I would jump up and down on the mattress, screaming, laughing, our hair standing straight up. I remembered the breakfasts together, Mummy loving grapefruit and lychees, seldom drinking coffee or tea. I remembered that after breakfast we’d embark on the working day with her, sitting by her side during her first phone calls, auditing her business meetings. I remembered Willy and me joining her for a chat with Christy Turlington, Claudia Schiffer, and Cindy Crawford. Very confusing. Especially for two shy boys, at or about the age of puberty. I remembered bedtimes in Kensington Palace, saying goodnight at the foot of the stairs, kissing her soft neck, inhaling her perfume, then lying in bed, in the dark, feeling so far away, so alone, and longing to hear her voice just one more time. I remembered my bedroom being the farthest from hers, and in the dark, in the terrible silence, being unable to relax, unable to let go.
Prince Harry, The Duke of Sussex.
Some days I’d open my eyes to find Mummy…standing before me.
A thousand images returned, some so bright and vivid that they were like holograms. I remembered mornings in Mummy’s apartment at Kensington Palace, the nanny waking Willy and me, helping us down to Mummy’s bedroom. I remembered that she had a waterbed, and Willy and I would jump up and down on the mattress, screaming, laughing, our hair standing straight up. I remembered the breakfasts together, Mummy loving grapefruit and lychees, seldom drinking coffee or tea. I remembered that after breakfast we’d embark on the working day with her, sitting by her side during her first phone calls, auditing her business meetings. I remembered Willy and me joining her for a chat with Christy Turlington, Claudia Schiffer, and Cindy Crawford. Very confusing. Especially for two shy boys, at or about the age of puberty. I remembered bedtimes in Kensington Palace, saying goodnight at the foot of the stairs, kissing her soft neck, inhaling her perfume, then lying in bed, in the dark, feeling so far away, so alone, and longing to hear her voice just one more time. I remembered my bedroom being the farthest from hers, and in the dark, in the terrible silence, being unable to relax, unable to let go.
Prince Harry, The Duke of Sussex.
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