Michael Cargill

Regular updates of sarcastic and irreverent nonsense.

Tag Archives: kate middleton

Now that the royal baby is here, who gets first dibs on the placenta?

prince-william-150Hello, finest people of the British Empire, ‘tis Prince William here!

No doubt you’re all aware of the hullaballoo surrounding the expulsion of the Royal Foetus from within one’s wife’s womb. After all, pappa tells me that it’s been all over the BBC channels and it seems that even those ghastly perverts over on that Channel 4 thing are talking about it as well! Spiffo, I say! The Royal Bedding that took place nine months ago was a jolly frantic couple of minutes, and I’m awfully pleased that the entire country is as excited about it as I am – I simply cannot wait for the next one!

In the aftermath of all this frivolity, a frantic debate has arisen about who’s going to have the placenta. Now, although I have no doubt that it would make a splendid souvenir to remember the occasion by, I’ve decided not to place my hat into the ring – after all, I’ll be allowed to hold the baby on birthdays and during outings to Windsor Legoland, so there’s no point in being greedy whilst there’s still plenty to go round.

After a fair amount of consultation with the family, it’s been agreed that Grandmama’s little corgi dogs are the frontrunners in this race for ownership of the afterbirth. And why not? They put in a jolly good performance during their time in the maternity ward; whilst the doctors and nurses were running around like headless chickens, the good little doggies were as calm as a button as they played dead and rolled over on my command. You should have seen the look on Kate’s face when they started lapping up the mess she had left on the bed! Priceless!

I’m going to leave the decision for naming the baby down to Harry. He’s a real wag when it comes to things like that, and I’m keeping my fingers crossed for Gertrude or Biff.

Q&A with Paparazzi John

camera paparazziWelcome, oglers!  Unless you’ve been living in a country with tightly-controlled state media restricting your exposure to celebrity nipple-slips, you’ll have heard all about the Kate Middleton holiday snaps that have been making the rounds.  Surprise, surprise, everyone is blaming the photographers again.  Let me ask you this: if Miss Middleton didn’t want some overweight, grubby, sex starved, thrice-divorced, middle-aged bloke in khaki shorts taking photos of her tits from half a mile away, why did she grow them in the first place?  If there’s one thing that I can’t stand, it’s hypocrisy, and women with breasts are amongst the worst offenders.

Dear Paparazzi John

I was putting the rubbish out the other week, when I thought I saw a leaf blow across my neighbour’s garden.  Is this a tell-tale sign of paparazzi activity, or was it just the wind?

Good question!  Distraction is a key weapon in the paparazzi armoury, and I’m something of an expert in it.  I once hid at the back of my neighbour’s wardrobe, just waiting to get a quick peek of her in that lace nightgown she bought the week before.  She somehow heard me, and I had to think quickly.  Cats are famous for faffing about in wardrobes, trying on other people’s clothes, so I made a purring noise.  Unfortunately, she didn’t actually have a cat, so the ruse didn’t work.  I then did an impression of a cow, hoping she would think it was her mobile ring tone, but she still wasn’t fooled.  In a last ditch effort, I rolled a marble across the floor to trick her into thinking she had a poltergeist.

Stupid bitch called the police on me.  I tell you, if she didn’t want to be seen in her undergarments, why did she buy them from a high street shop?  If she wanted to keep it a secret, she should have bought it online and had it delivered when everyone was asleep.  In fact, she should forgo the use of clothes entirely if she’s going to be such a prude about being seen wearing them.

Dear Paparazzi John

I’m trying to get into photography, and have some very tasteful photos of my wife, reading in the garden.  Would you mind taking a look, and let me know you think?

Woah!  Easy, tiger!  Artful pictures of a fully-clothed woman?  That she consented to?  Are you some kind of pervert?

Hmmm, mind you… are her nipples visible through the blouse?

Six months after the wedding, I now see that Kate Middleton is a real honey

Hi there subjects, Prince William here. I hope you are all receikate-williamving my message loud and clear on this here web-interface-blog thingymejot, for I have something important to say. About six months ago, I married a jolly nice middle-class girl called Kate Middleton and do you know what? She ain’t half a pretty one! It’s an extraordinary occurrence given her lack of breeding, but it’s true and I can’t quite believe that I’ve only just noticed it. I haven’t yet decided whether to tell her this as I am frightfully worried of giving her the wrong impression of me. So far we have mostly exchanged friendly pleasantries in the hallways and the occasional friendly smile from across the banquet table, but other than that I don’t really know much about her. Which is a damn shame, really.

Now, I don’t claim to be an expert on girls but what I want to know is where this pretty face of hers came from – it definitely wasn’t there back when we got married. I have heard many tales about the tricks and craftiness of women, but had always poo-pooed them before. Now, however, I’m not so sure. I have to consider the possibility that she is trying to gain full access to my princely crown jewels and it is no joke when I say that they are very delicate things indeed. They have several hundred years of vintage heritage behind them and when I asked the man in the tower about them, he said that they shouldn’t be handled too roughly. Worst case scenario is that they could disintegrate and turn to dust! What a horror of a thought!

One thing that I have noticed about Kate, is that she keeps carrying this little leather bag around with her. Grandmama Queeny told me that it is a ladies handbag and I have to say I am utterly enthralled with the concept of such a thing. What on earth is inside it? Fountain pens for signing the servant’s overtime slips? Choccy treats for the corgies? Frogs legs and beetles for casting mind-control spells…? Perhaps I could ask Prince Harry about it, he seems to get on well with her. I often see them laughing and joking together and I believe they go horse-riding as well. He always knows about these sorts of things.

I have also noticed that her sister, Pippa Middleton, has a cracking little arse on her too.

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