He says he watched Orion & Little Dipper. Visible that far south in the southern hemisphere? Maybe briefly just after sunset on the very edge of the horizon. You’d probably have to be a dedicated star gazer to find them. It’s not like here when you look up on a clear night and they’re clearly visible for most of the night. I’m going to call bullshit on this little detail.Pretty sure he was gutted Chelsy didn’t want to marry him but Meg probably had it written Chelsy wasn’t understanding or the love of his life !
Yes sometimes I had mine and was home within 6 hours. I didn't have an epidural or anything. However Smeg would have been a geriatric mother. I also don't know anyone who is home within 2 hours. Harrys lies scream utter bullshit.In the UK aren't you able to leave hospital quite soon after having a baby if all is well? I stayed in 4 days and that's not unusual in the US - between 3 and 5 days for a vaginal birth.
While I fully agree that something of this nature would likely be covered up to protect the institution if it happened in the UK, or an impoverished former colony like Afghanistan - my first thought is that, if he was dumb enough to pull the same shit in California (and we know how dumb he is), he may have finally located a jurisdiction where the BRF don't have the power to influence prosecutors even if they want to. Not saying that kind of corruption isn't possible in America, but depending upon the crime/ victim/ political interests at stake... the Royals wouldn't have the sway to force the matter if it really came to it, and authorities were determined to push ahead with charges.I don’t believe it. The establishment would move heaven and earth to bury this and any possible victims to protect The Montecito Ripper.
This is such utter shit. What a lie! No one ever pays attention to anyone else in a queue in Britain!Still, despite the mounting stress, the terrible pressure, we managed to protect our essential bond, never snapping at each other during those few days. As we came to the final hours of her visit, we were solid, happy, and Meg announced she wanted to make me a special goodbye lunch. There was nothing in my fridge, as usual. But there was a Whole Foods down the street. I gave her directions, the safest route, past the Palace guards, turn right, towards Kensington Palace Gardens, down to Kensington High Street, there’s a police barrier, take a right and you’ll see Whole Foods. It’s massive, you can’t miss it. I had an engagement but I’d be home soon.
Baseball cap, jacket, head down, side gate. You’ll be fine, I promise.
Two hours later, when I got home, I found her inconsolable. Sobbing. Shaking. What is it? What’s happened? She could barely get the story out.
She’d dressed just as I’d advised, and she’d run happily, anonymously, up and down the supermarket aisles. But as she rode the escalator a man approached. Excuse me, do you know where the exit is? Oh, yes, I think it’s just up here to the left. Hey! You’re on that program—Suits, am I right? My wife loves you. Oh. That’s so nice! Thanks. What’s your name? Jeff. Nice to meet you, Jeff. Please tell her I said thanks for watching. I will. Can I get a picture…you know, for my mum? Thought you said it was your wife. Oh. Yeah. Heh. Sorry, I’m just grocery shopping today. His face changed. Well, even if I can’t take a picture WITH you…that doesn’t stop me taking pictures OF you! He whipped out his phone and followed her to the deli counter, snapping away while she looked at the turkey. F the turkey, she thought, hurrying to the checkouts. He followed her there too. She got into the queue. Before her were rows and rows of magazines and newspapers, and on all of them, under the most shocking and disgusting headlines…was her. The other customers noticed as well. They looked at the magazines, looked at her, and now they too pulled out their phones, like zombies. Meg caught two cashiers sharing a horrible smile. After paying for her groceries, she walked outside, straight into a group of four men with their iPhones aimed at her. She kept her head down, rushed up Kensington High Street. She was nearly home when a horse-drawn carriage came rolling out of Kensington Palace Gardens. Some sort of parade: the Palace gate was blocked. She was forced back along the main road, where the four men picked up the scent again, and chased her all the way to the main gate, screaming her name. When she finally got inside Nott Cott, she’d phoned her best girlfriends, each of whom asked: Is he worth this, Meg? Is anyone worth this? I put my arms around her, said I was sorry. So sorry. We just held each other, until I slowly became aware of the most delicious smells. I looked around. Hang on. You mean…after all that…you still made lunch? I wanted to feed you before I left.
Prince Harry, The Duke of Sussex.
My god kill me now!Second date with Meghan
This time I was already there—waiting. Smiling. Proud of myself. She walked in, wearing a pretty blue sundress with white pinstripes. She was aglow. I stood and said: I bear gifts. A pink box. I held it forward. She shook it. What’s this? No, no, don’t shake it! We both laughed. She opened the box. Cupcakes. Red, white and blue cupcakes, to be exact. In honor of Independence Day. I said something about the Brits having a very different view of Independence Day from the Yanks, but, oh, well. She said they looked amazing. Our waitress from Date One appeared. Mischa. She seemed genuinely happy to see us, to discover that there was a Date Two. She could tell what was happening, she got that she was an eyewitness, that she’d forever be part of our personal mythology. After bringing us a round of drinks she went away and didn’t return for a long time. When she did, we were deep in the middle of a kiss. Not our first.
Meghan, holding my shirt collar, was pulling me towards her, holding me close. When she saw Mischa she released me immediately and we all laughed. Excuse us. No problem. Another round? Again the conversation flowed, crackled. Burgers came and went, uneaten. I felt an overwhelming sense of Overture, Prelude, Kettle Drums, Act I. And yet also a sense of ending. A phase of my life—the first half?—was coming to a close. As the night neared its end we had a very frank discussion. There was no way round it. She put a hand to her cheek and said: What’re we gonna doooo? We have to give this a proper go. What does that even mean? I live in Canada. I’m going back tomorrow! We’ll meet. A long visit. This summer. My summer’s already planned. Mine too. Surely in the whole summer we could find one small spot of time. She shook her head. She was doing the full Eat Pray Love. Eat what now? The book? Ah. Sorry. Not really big on books. I felt intimidated. She was so the opposite of me. She read. She was cultured. Not important, she said with a laugh. The point was, she was going with three girlfriends to Spain, and then with two girlfriends to Italy, and then— She looked at her calendar. I looked at mine. She raised her eyes, smiled. What is it? Tell me. Actually, there’s one small window… Recently, she explained, a castmate had advised her not to be so structured about her summer of eating, praying and loving. Keep one week open, this castmate said, leave room for magic, so she’d been saying no to all kinds of things, reserving one week, even turning down a very dreamy bike trip through the lavender fields of southern France… I looked at my calendar and said: I have one week open as well. What if they’re the same week? What if? Is it possible? How crazy would that be? It was the same week.
Prince Harry, The Duke of Sussex.
While I fully agree that something of this nature would likely be covered up to protect the institution if it happened in the UK, or an impoverished former colony like Afghanistan - my first thought is that, if he was dumb enough to pull the same shit in California (and we know how dumb he is), he may have finally located a jurisdiction where the BRF don't have the power to influence prosecutors even if they want to. Not saying that kind of corruption isn't possible in America, but depending upon the crime/ victim/ political interests at stake... the Royals wouldn't have the sway to force the matter if it really came to it, and authorities were determined to push ahead with charges.
I'm also not saying they *necessarily* would in the UK, but let's face it - they have a lot more influence there, obviously.
This would certainly explain the sudden palace lawyering up, if true.Hazno might be even more of a colossal scumbag than even I credited him with, and the royals see unprecedented storm clouds on the horizon. I won't lie - if this is true, I hope they hit him with the max sentence and he's the first royal to die in a foreign prison. I have not a smidgen of compassion for sexual predators of any class, creed, or color. I just hope it's not true for the sake of the woman/women in question.
Congratulations on making VIP!He is such an ignorant pillock. The Royal Rota was created to give the family privacy and stop intrusion.
You give them access to positive column inches and let them do their job by posing for a photo at the start of the royal holiday, and the press should leave you alone to enjoy family time for the rest of it.
‘Fair competition’ in Harry’s eyes means more long lens pap shots, more paps chasing cars and more intrusion.
Just noticed I’m getting close to VIP status. Please warm up the VIP lounge. I will bring jugs of margaritas and lots of nibbles when the moment comes.
Can someone take a baseball bat and beat some sense into this idiotThis episode at Frogmore…
1) it’s very clear Wills was absolutely desperate to get through to him, but failed
2) I don’t even know what to say about his idea of a death cult.
Agreed. Smeg is a bit part in series 1&2. She does feature more in the later series but they get progressively more shit. Correlation?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
It's a big word for him. I don't think he know what it means. Maybe he just had a dictionary and looked for nice big words. Or maybe he saw it in his Mills & Boons"Personal mythology "
No way hell did he ever say that. That has Migraine stamped all over itSecond date with Meghan
This time I was already there—waiting. Smiling. Proud of myself. She walked in, wearing a pretty blue sundress with white pinstripes. She was aglow. I stood and said: I bear gifts. A pink box. I held it forward. She shook it. What’s this? No, no, don’t shake it! We both laughed. She opened the box. Cupcakes. Red, white and blue cupcakes, to be exact. In honor of Independence Day. I said something about the Brits having a very different view of Independence Day from the Yanks, but, oh, well. She said they looked amazing. Our waitress from Date One appeared. Mischa. She seemed genuinely happy to see us, to discover that there was a Date Two. She could tell what was happening, she got that she was an eyewitness, that she’d forever be part of our personal mythology. After bringing us a round of drinks she went away and didn’t return for a long time. When she did, we were deep in the middle of a kiss. Not our first.
Meghan, holding my shirt collar, was pulling me towards her, holding me close. When she saw Mischa she released me immediately and we all laughed. Excuse us. No problem. Another round? Again the conversation flowed, crackled. Burgers came and went, uneaten. I felt an overwhelming sense of Overture, Prelude, Kettle Drums, Act I. And yet also a sense of ending. A phase of my life—the first half?—was coming to a close. As the night neared its end we had a very frank discussion. There was no way round it. She put a hand to her cheek and said: What’re we gonna doooo? We have to give this a proper go. What does that even mean? I live in Canada. I’m going back tomorrow! We’ll meet. A long visit. This summer. My summer’s already planned. Mine too. Surely in the whole summer we could find one small spot of time. She shook her head. She was doing the full Eat Pray Love. Eat what now? The book? Ah. Sorry. Not really big on books. I felt intimidated. She was so the opposite of me. She read. She was cultured. Not important, she said with a laugh. The point was, she was going with three girlfriends to Spain, and then with two girlfriends to Italy, and then— She looked at her calendar. I looked at mine. She raised her eyes, smiled. What is it? Tell me. Actually, there’s one small window… Recently, she explained, a castmate had advised her not to be so structured about her summer of eating, praying and loving. Keep one week open, this castmate said, leave room for magic, so she’d been saying no to all kinds of things, reserving one week, even turning down a very dreamy bike trip through the lavender fields of southern France… I looked at my calendar and said: I have one week open as well. What if they’re the same week? What if? Is it possible? How crazy would that be? It was the same week.
Prince Harry, The Duke of Sussex.
Christ…that has Saint Smegs fingers all up in there doesnt it!!! Fucking hell ‘all based on death’…fuck that fucking woman and the dweeby demented easily manipulated schmuck!This episode at Frogmore…
1) it’s very clear Wills was absolutely desperate to get through to him, but failed
2) I don’t even know what to say about his idea of a death cult.
Recent accusations from another Twitter account say that Smeg has been intimidating the latest victim to stay quiet. If these are all lies, then these people have balls of brass. As far as I’m concerned, it needs to be seen in the MSM for it to be believed.While I fully agree that something of this nature would likely be covered up to protect the institution if it happened in the UK, or an impoverished former colony like Afghanistan - my first thought is that, if he was dumb enough to pull the same shit in California (and we know how dumb he is), he may have finally located a jurisdiction where the BRF don't have the power to influence prosecutors even if they want to. Not saying that kind of corruption isn't possible in America, but depending upon the crime/ victim/ political interests at stake... the Royals wouldn't have the sway to force the matter if it really came to it, and authorities were determined to push ahead with charges.
I'm also not saying they *necessarily* would in the UK, but let's face it - they have a lot more influence there, obviously.
This would certainly explain the sudden palace lawyering up, if true.Hazno might be even more of a colossal scumbag than even I credited him with, and the royals see unprecedented storm clouds on the horizon. I won't lie - if this is true, I hope they hit him with the max sentence and he's the first royal to die in a foreign prison. I have not a smidgen of compassion for sexual predators of any class, creed, or color. I just hope it's not true for the sake of the woman/women in question.
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