Well here we are post wedding of the weekend, and weren’t we all excited ! All we have to do now is ask ourselves what on earth do a bunch of snobby, upper class dimwits have to do with Australia?

The German connection

The royal family have their deepest roots in imperialist Germany with a name change from Sax -Goth -Coburg- Battenburg to Windsor – Tudor within living memory, so you can rest assured they dont have too many relatives living in Mooroolbark .They showed considerable constraint at the nuptuals by not allowing the German Oom Pa Pa bands and cancelling the flyover of the Messerschmitt 109 fighter squadron.

What on earth does this family of inbreds, no hopers and the worlds greatest dole bludgers have to do with me in Australia, for some reason we accept the mother of this mob as the head of Australia.

My mate Doug describes it as the empire farts back with ostrich feathers on top with lovely chaps all nicknamed “jungle” because their so fucking dense.

Most of the females attending resembled surly horse faced grumps with a leg in each corner and a cucumber sandwich in the chaff bag.

The Wedding of the century

This royal wedding is being promoted as the wedding of the century but how quickly we forget, weren’t Charles and Di supposed to be the saviours of this motly institution all that time ago.

Now Di was a lovely youg woman with the world at her feet and loved nothing more than a little doona dancing, but in the end she picked up the stupid families genes and done a runner with a middle eastern shopkeepers son forgetting to do up her seatbelt
.

Charles on the other hand couldn’t wait to get into Camelias bed shouting “I’m a tampon I’m a tampon” .Fergies effort at Texan toe sucking fades into insignificance compared to the efforts of the rest of these wankers .

Now here comes another generation of freeloaders indulging their penchant for kinky sex all at our expense and we’re expected to pay and celebrate at the same time .

Flog ‘em off I reckon

Privatise them I reckon, flog them off to Disney land, stick them in a plastic replica castle in a Florida swamp, you could charge fat Americans to come to tea with a real Queen . This way out ladies and gentlemen through to ye olde englishe gifte shoppe,get your knighthoods here, earldoms on special this week.

Even rent out the prince with the brownshirt uniform for any jaded businessman looking for a bit of rough sex.

Bugger the wedding I reckon. Until next time of course when we are sucked into the hype and bullshit about fairytales of princes and princesses I will try and stick the royal medalion I recieved in todays paper in a parking meter, or try and slip it past the teller at the bank plus I’ve got a game of scrabble going with the real fairies at the bottom of my garden