Harry and Meghan #298 The half price Prince

[docmum]

I hope that lawyer lady is getting well paid on Piers' show, she's making a complete bleeping fool of herself. Surely even she can't believe the bullshit she's trying to defend.

PS. Check out Pdina's latest vid on YT ... she's well pissed-off with US media coverage.

i was about to mute her but she contradicted herself via the lies perfectly

 

[Margo_Channing]

This was posted a thread or so back ... made me laugh, whenever I see Harry's face on TV:

View attachment 1872237

There was also this one i think of when hes moaning about his poor little privileged life!

 

[Sooz]

Can't wait to get to the excerpt where he admits people were sobbing at their desks. I've only seen a snippet of it.

 

[PurvyPanda]

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.

I highlighted one more section @Anna2020 - the bit about the waitress. Why would a waitress give a toss about this couple? She no doubt got paid peanuts to pay her exorbitant London rent. It's ridiculous.
This together with the last exerpt about going to Whole Foods and saving a cashiers life from a vicious married couple. I thought Meghan's messiah complex was bad, but now we are suddenly hearing much more from him, it would appear his messiah complex is just as bad. And do I believe Prince Harry bought soiled damaged clothes in the sale at TK Maxx - no. Utter tripe.
He also has a very good memory about her holiday plans. Very elaborate. I'm Sure he had no help whatsoever to jog his memory.

I am feeling quite aggrivated tonight after watching PDina's most recent video where she tears strips off those silly bints on The View, who are absolutely insistent that the UK is a backwards nation that despised Meghan as a biracial, middle class American divorcee, that the Royal Family are racist, and that none of them had any interest in the RF until Meghan and Harry got together, because Meghan is just like Diana (really) and they have that special quality that "the other couple don't have".
Sorry to any American's here, but these ignorant trashy people need to get their heads around that idea that Royalty and celebrity are not the same thing, that the two are completely juxtaposed, and that service does not include self service. PDina did an excellent job as always of correcting them. If only there were more people like PDina on American TV.

That together with seeing on the last thread, a photoshoot Harry has done for People magazine. Grinning ear to ear. Very pleased with himself and the destruction he has left in his wake.
I saw on YT that Trevor Coult has been approached by a journalist to discuss Harry's book, but he refused on the basis he is concerned Harry might be suicidal. I shouldn't say it, but I am so angry about how selfish and loathsome these two people are, that I really don't care. I am utterly fed of them both. Almost 7 years of this absolute bullshit from this awful woman projecting herself on to everyone, and her want and desire to be adored despite doing NOTHING to deserve it.
I am just aghast that two people can be so self centred and so self absorbed that they can tit all over everyone who isn't completely spell bound by them.

It's not often I feel angry about them. Most of the time I find them ridiculous and comical, but the seriousness of the anglophobia they are inciting, and the hatred they are spreading and then saying they aren't. The gaslighting. The lying. I am really at a loss what to make of it all to be honest. I am just completely disgusted with our culture that allows people to behave this way, and allows them to believe they are righteous. It's sick!

 

[Meemew]

My favourite bit of all this is Harry insisting that everyone in his life loves and is obsessed with Suits. Will, Kate, Eugenie, his friends...

They must have made up the entire viewing figures for that show.

I had literally never heard of this show or Smegs until she was announced as Harry’s girlfriend from Suits.

I hope they issue a Cease and Desist - We did not bleeping watch Suits.

 

[LyraBalaqua]

I’d always told myself that there were firm rules about relationships, at least when it came to royalty, and the main one was that you absolutely must date a woman for three years before taking the plunge. How else could you know about her? How else could she know about you—and your royal life? How else could both of you be sure that this was what you wanted, that it was a thing you could endure together? It wasn’t for everybody. But Meg seemed the shining exception to this rule. All rules. I knew her straightaway, and she knew me. The true me. Might seem rash, I thought, might seem illogical, but it’s true: For the first time, in fact, I felt myself to be living in truth.

Prince Harry, The Duke of Sussex

Stupid stupid twit and now Harold , look at you . Should’ve listened to the elders.

 

[Hannahebee]

Me neither

I have never watched suits either.

 

[Evangelina]

He seriously advised her to wear Hunter boots and the 'Alleviate Poverty Worldwide' bag? He's taking the blame for pretty much everything!

She has so written this

He messed up the pap-walk part, the DM (one) office is there and a few other media.
And of course the ''trash'' savior complex is strong with him.

 

[ChaoticArtist]

That deserves a row of dancing mushies!!

Thank you soooo much!! I love the mushies!! I can't believe this! Lakhs of candidates and I wasn't all that prepared and I suck at maths!

Woke my parents up. Dad said congratulations the second I said I got my result - hadn't even said that I qualified. Narc mum promptly reminded me that the last time I cleared an exam and got a job (that she and her narc dad forced me to leave a really good one for), it was a disaster (Smeg-like boss). Pup was glaring at me blearily and then warily, later made two hoes holes in my hand with his fangs. I am now enjoying a chocolate, a hot water bottle and my playlist and frequently zooming in to read the word 'qualified' on my scorecard to make sure I read it correctly

It really does sound delusional. Either that, or this is TW script for her (Made for TV) movie that she's directing.

Maybe that's on the cards...A movie. Who will the cast be I wonder?

Was going to say that. Especially since she gave us a preview in The bleep Cut. May that reporter find work in peace.

Of course she'll play herself. Who better, or greater, or beautifuller, or Ho-er, or whipsmarter? There can be no other Ho Smegs.

 

[wibble]

Oh...



Oh please, please, please....
Someone ask Harry what his views on Hitler are.

 

[LadyBee_Aus]

My poor reaction button is getting a workout reading all these Spare excerpts! What utter drivel this book is!

Thank you Saint @Anna2020 …. I couldn’t stomach reading this schmaltz but can *just* manage the snippets you are posting. Seriously, this is woefully written. I thought the ghostwriter might have helped, but I guess he really did leave it in Harry’s Megz words.

 

[Ladygisborne]

I don't know if it has already been mentioned (I cannot keep up!) but the vomiting / feeling faint on the bathroom floor scene was taken from Twilight. Ugh, as Bella Swan would say.

 

[mRsKbRoOkS]

REUNITED. A quiet night at Nott Cott, preparing dinner together. December 2016. Meg and I had discovered that we shared the same favorite food: roast chicken. I didn’t know how to cook it, so that night she was teaching me. I remember the warmth of the kitchen, the wonderful smells. Lemon wedges on the cutting board, garlic and rosemary, gravy bubbling in a saucepan. I remember rubbing salt on the skin of the bird, then opening a bottle of wine. Meg put on music.
Maybe the wine went to my head. Maybe the weeks of battling the press had worn me down. For some reason, when the conversation took an unexpected turn, I became touchy. Then angry. Disproportionately, sloppily angry. Meg said something I took the wrong way. It was partly a cultural difference, partly a language barrier, but I was also just over-sensitive that night. I thought: Why’s she having a go at me? I snapped at her, spoke to her harshly—cruelly. As the words left my mouth, I could feel everything in the room come to a stop. The gravy stopped bubbling, the molecules of air stopped orbiting. Even Nina Simone seemed to pause. Meg walked out of the room, disappearing for a full fifteen minutes. I went and found her upstairs. She was sitting in the bedroom. She was calm, but said in a quiet, level tone that she would never stand for being spoken to like that. I nodded. She wanted to know where it came from. I don’t know. Where did you ever hear a man speak like that to a woman? Did you overhear adults speak that way when you were growing up? I cleared my throat, looked away. Yes. She wasn’t going to tolerate that kind of partner. Or co-parent. That kind of life. She wasn’t going to raise children in an atmosphere of anger or disrespect. She laid it all out, super-clear. We both knew my anger hadn’t been caused by anything to do with our conversation. It came from somewhere deep inside, somewhere that needed to be excavated, and it was obvious that I could use some help with the job. I’ve tried therapy, I told her. Willy told me to go. Never found the right person. Didn’t work. No, she said softly. Try again.

Prince Harry, The Duke of Sussex.

Hhmmm this sounds really similar to the bit I posted the other day, of what went down before Harry’s interview . “Where did you hear such hurtful words Harold” she definitely gave him a swift slap and broke his pearls , told you it was legit -

In all seriousness though this is all megs words what a bleep

 

[Ndrangheta]

Oh God, Paul McKenna. I'm out. Cya later. Behavioural scientist MY ARSE. He got caught out with a fake degree a long time back ... has he got another one from somewhere? duck off.

 

[LByrne74]

REUNITED. A quiet night at Nott Cott, preparing dinner together. December 2016. Meg and I had discovered that we shared the same favorite food: roast chicken. I didn’t know how to cook it, so that night she was teaching me. I remember the warmth of the kitchen, the wonderful smells. Lemon wedges on the cutting board, garlic and rosemary, gravy bubbling in a saucepan. I remember rubbing salt on the skin of the bird, then opening a bottle of wine. Meg put on music.
Maybe the wine went to my head. Maybe the weeks of battling the press had worn me down. For some reason, when the conversation took an unexpected turn, I became touchy. Then angry. Disproportionately, sloppily angry. Meg said something I took the wrong way. It was partly a cultural difference, partly a language barrier, but I was also just over-sensitive that night. I thought: Why’s she having a go at me? I snapped at her, spoke to her harshly—cruelly. As the words left my mouth, I could feel everything in the room come to a stop. The gravy stopped bubbling, the molecules of air stopped orbiting. Even Nina Simone seemed to pause. Meg walked out of the room, disappearing for a full fifteen minutes. I went and found her upstairs. She was sitting in the bedroom. She was calm, but said in a quiet, level tone that she would never stand for being spoken to like that. I nodded. She wanted to know where it came from. I don’t know. Where did you ever hear a man speak like that to a woman? Did you overhear adults speak that way when you were growing up? I cleared my throat, looked away. Yes. She wasn’t going to tolerate that kind of partner. Or co-parent. That kind of life. She wasn’t going to raise children in an atmosphere of anger or disrespect. She laid it all out, super-clear. We both knew my anger hadn’t been caused by anything to do with our conversation. It came from somewhere deep inside, somewhere that needed to be excavated, and it was obvious that I could use some help with the job. I’ve tried therapy, I told her. Willy told me to go. Never found the right person. Didn’t work. No, she said softly. Try again.

Prince Harry, The Duke of Sussex.

So they discovered they shared the same favourite food did they? God you can see the love bombing and manipulation. Either he said what his fave food was to her and she pretended that, uncannily, it was hers too, or perhaps she'd discovered it from a Google search. She sure did her homework, this one.

 

[Shemakesmemad]

Another Markle Marker that show she wrote it. We know that she misuese words to sound smarter (e.g. archetypes when she meant stereotypes)

However, she may have inadvertently been right when she misused the word mythology

Mythology: a set of stories or beliefs about a particular person, institution, or situation, especially when exaggerated or fictitious.

However, this really should be "our personal hagiography": a biography that idealizes its subject

(I know that there is such a thing as personal mythology: an individual's fundamental stories for making sense and meaning of the world, but that does not apply in this case)

He could be comparing them to the mythology of the gods and goddesses! He (she wrote it) does have a very high opinion of themselves

 

[givepeasachance]

Did ANYONE actually watch Suits? Hands up

(I'd never heard of it)

 

[Hula flight]

He seriously advised her to wear Hunter boots and the 'Alleviate Poverty Worldwide' bag? He's taking the blame for pretty much everything!

She has so written this

Oh my god,is that the day she walked up and down until someone from the Mail took pity on her and went out and photographed her!?
Any chance we can put book passages under a spoiler?they are making me puke.I feel violated !!!!

 

[Anna2020]

THE ADDRESS WAS HALF an hour from Nott Cott. Just a quick drive across the Thames, past the park…but it felt like one of my polar journeys. Heart pounding, I took a deep breath, knocked at the door. The woman opened it, welcomed me. She led me down a short corridor to her office. First door on the left. Small room. Windows with venetian blinds. Right on the busy street. You could hear cars, shoes clicking on the pavement. People talking, laughing. She was fifteen years older than me, but youthful. She reminded me of Tiggy. It was shocking, really. Such a similar vibe. She pointed me to a dark green sofa and took a chair across the room. The day was autumnal, yet I was sweating profusely. I apologized. I overheat easily. Also, I’m a bit nervous. Say no more. She jumped up, ran out. Moments later she returned with a little fan, which she aimed at me. Ah, lovely. Thank you. She waited for me to begin. But I didn’t know where to begin. So I began with my mum. I said I was afraid of losing her. She gave me a long, searching look. She knew, of course, that I’d already lost my mum. How surreal, to meet a therapist who already knows part of your life story, who’s possibly spent beach holidays reading whole books about you. Yes, I’ve already lost my mum, of course, but I’m afraid that by talking about her, now, here, to a perfect stranger, and perhaps alleviating some of the pain of that loss, I’ll be losing her again. I’ll be losing that feeling, that presence of her—or what I’ve always felt as her presence. The therapist squinted. I tried again. You see…the pain…if that’s what it is…that’s all I have left of her. And the pain is also what drives me. Some days the pain is the only thing holding me together. And also, I suppose, without the pain, well, she might think…I’ve forgotten her. That sounded silly. But, well, there it was. Most memories of my mother, I explained, with sudden and overwhelming sorrow, were gone. On the other side of the Wall. I told her about the Wall. I told her I’d spoken to Willy about my lack of memories of our mother. He’d advised me to look through photo albums, which I’d promptly done. Nothing
So, my mother wasn’t images, or impressions, she was mainly just a hole in my heart, and if I healed that hole, patched it up—what then? I asked if all this sounded crazy. No. We were silent. A long time. She asked me what I needed. Why are you here? Look, I said. What I need…is to be rid of this heaviness in my chest. I need…I need… Yes? To cry. Please. Help me cry.

Prince Harry, The Duke of Sussex

 

[VC10]

Oh God, Paul McKenna. I'm out. Cya later. Behavioural scientist MY ARSE. He got caught out with a fake degree a long time back ... has he got another one from somewhere? duck off.

Paul mckenna