He can get shouty but he calls out their lies and then shows clips from Oprah to prove what they really said.
I don't usually watch Piers on Talk TV, but while I'm waiting for my boys to get back from scouts, let's have a shifty lol
That's quite the frequent topic with me, my mother and a friend whose parents are narcs and financially abusive, whenever we are on one of our downward spirals. Sometimes we decide to become bastards, but we aren't really cut out for it so no one really takes us seriously and it doesn't workWhen are these lying, cheating, hateful arseholes going to get their just deserts? If it doesn't happen what's the point of any of us living an honest life? Caring about people? Working hard? Honestly, whats the point? We may as well just become back-stabbing grifters and shaft everyone we come into contact with in order to feather our own nests. Why not just become liars, hypocrites and use people? They are proving that it's the best way to get rich and famous. When is there going to be some major push back? Why are some people actually giving them sympathy and a free-pass? It's sickening and making me question my own views on life and how a person should act and live. If by the end of the year these two are still around, getting rich and appearing on TV I'm going to change the way I live and become a complete bastard of a man.
Even after all he has said, all the crazy stuff, even I was shocked that he tried to claim that by saying how many he'd allegedly killed, he was trying to prevent suicides. Sorry, what the fuck did you just say Harry? Whaaaat?!! And of course it's the press' fault for reporting his own words.
And he has the absolute audacity to Lie once again, in his memoir, about never having used Amazon like a real boy. He has gone too far this time where will these falsehoods end.That “official” account has reviewed 4 things on Amazon.
The Bench, the Share (sorry Spare), a Wi-Fi router and a phone case. This is the case review. Must be H, check out the last sentence, he sure knows how to do that
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The original Twitter poster is still talking about it and saying they weren’t given a time window only “shortly”. Which is so vague that it could mean anything. If they’re telling the truth then I appreciate them getting the word out, but also why feed it in drips and drabs on social media? If it’s true, just lay it all out at once.Yes they said it was coming out within hours, and still nothing. I mean I hope it's bullshit for the victim's sake, but it's like all the times people predicted Donald Trump would be arrested, or Boris Johnson was surely going "this time" (yes we know he did eventually, but there were so many predictions) - all claiming to have definite insider knowledge.
This.times one millionIf it’s true it needs to come out soon, I’m sick of people teasing stuff and then nothing, especially for something this sickening and serious.
He isn’t 4, my son was born a few days before and he isn’t 4 yet - unless H and Peg has lied about his DOBWhat 4 year old has a fishing net?
I think you’ll find it’s unconscious bias actually….."I wanted to say: Hello.
I wanted to say: Where have you come from?
I wanted to say: Is it better there?"
Isn't that a bit racist?
Every time I see that picture I try and do that smile.
Huh! Quasi royal reporter ... Bit like your pal Omid Scoobie Harold??WE GOT WORD from Sara that The Sun was about to run a story saying The Duke and Duchess of Sussex were stepping away from their royal duties to spend more time in Canada.
A sad little man, the newspaper’s showbiz editor, was said to be the lead reporter on the story. Why him? Why, of all people, the showbiz guy?
Because lately he’d refashioned himself into some sort of quasi royal correspondent, largely on the strength of his secret relationship with one particularly close friend of Willy’s comms secretary—who fed him trivial (and mostly fake) gossip.
He was sure to get everything wrong, as he’d got everything wrong on his last big “exclusive,” Tiaragate.
He was equally sure to cram his story into the paper as fast as possible, because he was likely working in concert with the Palace, whose courtiers were determined to get ahead of us and spin the story.
We didn’t want that. We didn’t want anyone else breaking our news, twisting our news.
We’d have to rush out a statement.
I phoned Granny again, told her about The Sun, told her we might need to hurry out a statement.
She understood. She’d allow it, so long as it didn’t “add to speculation.”
I didn’t tell her exactly what our statement would say.
She didn’t ask.
But also I didn’t fully know yet. I gave her the gist, however, and mentioned some of the basic details I’d outlined in the memo Pa had demanded and which she’d seen. The wording needed to be precise. And it needed to be bland—calm.
We didn’t want to assign any blame, didn’t want to stoke the fires. Mustn’t add to speculation.
Formidable writing challenge.
We soon realized it wasn’t possible; we didn’t have time to get our statement out there first. We opened a bottle of wine.
Proceed, sad little man, proceed. He did.
The Sun posted his story late that night, and again on the morning’s front page.
Headline: WE’RE ORF!
As expected, the story depicted our departure as a rollicking, carefree, hedonistic tapping out, rather than a careful retreat and attempt at self-preservation.
It also included the telling detail that we’d offered to relinquish our Sussex titles.
There was only one document on earth in which that detail was mentioned—my private and confidential letter to my father. To which a shockingly, damningly small number of people had access. We hadn’t mentioned it to even our closest friends.
January 7, we worked some more on the draft, did a brief public appearance, met with our staff.
Finally, knowing more details were about to be leaked, on January 8 we hunkered down deep inside Buckingham Palace, in one of the main state rooms, with the two most senior members of our staff. I’d always liked that state room. Its pale walls, its sparkly crystal chandelier. But now it struck me as especially lovely and I thought: Has it always been so? Has it always looked so…royal?
In a corner of the state room was a grand wooden desk. We used this as our workspace. We took turns sitting there, typing on a laptop. We tried out different phrases. We wanted to say that we were taking a reduced role, stepping back but not down. Hard to get the exact wording, the right tone. Serious, but respectful.
Occasionally one of us would stretch out in a nearby armchair, or give the eyes a rest by gazing out of the two huge windows onto the gardens. When I needed a longer break I set off on a trek across the oceanic carpet. On the far side of the room, in the left corner, a small door led to the Belgian Suite, where Meg and I had once spent the night. In the near corner stood two tall wooden doors, the kind people think of when they hear the word “palace.” These led to a room in which I’d attended countless cocktail parties.
I thought back on those gatherings, on all the good times I’d had in this place.
I remembered: The room right next door was where the family always gathered for drinks before Christmas lunch. I went out into the hall.
There was a tall, beautiful Christmas tree, still brightly lit. I stood before it, reminiscing.
I removed two ornaments, soft little corgis, and brought them back to the staffers. One each. Souvenir of this strange mission, I said. They were touched. But a bit guilty. I assured them: No one will miss ’em. Words that seemed double-edged.
Late in the day, as we crawled closer to a final draft, the staffers began to feel anxious. They worried aloud if their involvement would be discovered. If so, what would it mean for their jobs?
But mostly they were excited. They felt that they were on the side of right; both had read every word of abuse in the press and on social media, going back months and months.
At six P.M. it was done.
We gathered around the laptop, read the draft one last time.
One staffer messaged the private secretaries of Granny, Pa and Willy, told them what was coming.
Willy’s guy replied immediately: This is going to go nuclear.
I knew, of course, that many Britons would be shocked, and saddened, which made my stomach churn. But in due course, once they knew the truth, I felt confident they’d understand.
One of the staffers said: Are we doing this?
Meg and I both said: Yes. There’s no other choice.
We sent the statement to our social media person.
Within a minute there it was, live, on our Instagram page, the only platform available to us.
We all hugged, wiped our eyes, and quickly gathered our things.
Meg and I walked out of the Palace and jumped into our car. As we sped towards Frogmore the news was already on the radio. Every channel. We picked one. Magic FM. Meg’s favorite. We listened to the presenter work himself into a very British lather.
We held hands and shared a smile with our bodyguards in the front seat. Then we all gazed silently out of the windows.
Prince Harry, The Duke of Sussex.
Back in the day when I really liked Harry I was always under the impression that all he wanted was a family of his own and that he adored children. I have recollections of him making a fuss of children during his walkabouts but when I think about it he’s always seemed indifferent to William’s kids.If she is as smart as it's claimed she will wait till after the divorce now that would be one best seller!
Provided the children eat the lilies. Even then, the reaction would be discomfort, concerning to parents, but only in the rarest cases would such a thing be fatal.
Whilst I feel the wedding lilies thing was a bit ott this is a really cold way to speak of your 3 year old niece!
I am trying to recall if I ever heard a warm story or seen a photo of him being an doting Uncle and I can't at all the only time he seems to be around the children is for balcony photo calls. Can anyone recall?
The more he shares the more I am convinced the rot set in him well before TW, she just helped accelerate and expose his worst side.
There's a thread title right there: "there is no gloc, just his frostbitten cock"
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