My tragic life as a Royal.
As many of you know my story is quite a sad one. My parents got divorced whilst I was still young and I had to shuttle between them to keep them both happy. Each one wanted my whole attention which as you dear reader, will understand is a difficult thing to do. Both wanted to know how much the other said they loved me, but I managed to channel that into “Money for Love”.
In addition to that, I was a young “woman of colour” a feminist, and a full time humanitarian. When I was 11 years old, I tried to write to Proctor & Gamble about how women shouldn’t be forced to wash dishes and that that job was really only suitable for a simple minded man. But my letter ended up at the proctologist’s and I had to submit myself to having examinations up my rear that I discovered were rather titillating and I used this knowledge to hook guys right left and centre. They (men – all of whom I have discovered are all very simple minded and couldn’t understand how much I could give them, from my magic boobies (that’s another story) to my love for sex in so many positions. I used this practical knowledge for my movies which apparently I did very well & I got loads of roles just playing the sex goddess!
Anyhow I digress. I knew I was made for bigger things in life and like many children dreamed of marrying a prince & becoming a princess so imagine my ABSOLOUTE horror when I found not only was I going to have to marry the ginger prince (who has a serious mental affliction that I am able to easily bend to my will), but I DON’T get to have the title Princess! I only got to be a Duchess! I mean, that is SO unfair. Then I got to understand that even having changed my religion, then I got confirmed (means I get to drink a bit of alcohol at Church boring Yawn) but of course I refuse to keep to the so called rules of being confirmed – I mean really you expect me to get on my knees and pray?! Get real! I only get on my knees to pleasure myself or get pleasured by a man – I haven’t found a woman good enough to respond to my incredible talent.. having done all of this – for all of this I wouldn’t get to be Queen of All EVER! I had hoped that I could make the sick thick Brits adore me & get voted up to being next in line, but even that was blocked.
I tried to get rid of the ginger whinger but the other was married and his wife (typical Brit tall ugly and posh) was on pregnancy number 3! WTF folk? She was REALLY carrying a REAL baby INSIDE HER! No WAY Was I going to do anything like that – – give birth in my voracious vagina? Who does that these days? I will make another woman carry the child & then pretend it’s my own. I can make certain my gingerboy does as I tell him just by denying him some of my “grace & favours”. I tried to break the marriage of “my new inlaws” as it was the only way to make certain I would be queen but somehow they saw through my ploy – somethine about being really in love (?who marries for love these days – we only marry to get ahead! I have never married for love it’s a waste of my time & resources look at how they look at each other ugh!) I even tried it with their daddy as it would mean I could be higher up than WaityKaty but his wife gave me a really hard time about him and even had a go at how I would never succeed how in breaking their marriage as I was nothing – honestly ME Nothing? Ha it’s laughable! He was too old (yeah I agree to them both being too old) so I had to side step him I mean it was only what 30 years between us?
Now I have made my ginger leave everything behind I had to make sure he REALLY “Loved” me (you dear reader know how I feel about that!) I really thought he would bolt back to his cosy little family and I had to plan the next stage of my divorcing ginger. But the twit actually gave it ALL up! He’s moved to LA with me & even though he’s unhappy I have a steady income from his daddy and his own trust fund. (I have managed to get ginge to give me some extra from his fund as I really wasn’t happy not living in a Royal establishment – although we never really moved to that ghastly cottage in Windsor – I can actually let you into a secret here – I don’t think it was wrong of me – but we never really converted that servants quarters for us to live in – I did have to pull gingers beard an awful lot to convince him it was for the best and we could stay in Soho House – Servants Quarters for ME? How ghastly of the granny to “give it as a wedding gift”! why couldn’t we have a pile like all the others have? Honestly, I was seriously affronted to be given a pile of crud that needed millions of dollars to convert it and it still wouldn’t be a decent home as it’s just a long narrow set of what these folk call “Cottages” there wouldn’t be a grand staircase for me to come down, or any secret panels to discover – I discovered some when in Buckingham Palace, ginge (I actually call him “H-aitch”) was kind enough (after some of my grace & favours) to take me around the old pile in London. I guess you could like live in it but it was really just a museum I would have knocked it down and built a snazzy new build with swimming pools, yoga studios, kindergarten school etc. that way we could all have fab apartments with all the modern requirements for a royal. But some people actually pay money to wander through some of the dusty, musty-smelling corridors & look at old pictures on the walls & coo over ancient beds tables chairs (Oh that’s a Queen Anne – what the fuck does that MEAN?) Could I sell it for some much needed cash? – apparently I could, but I got caught taking pictures in the private sectors of Buck P, Kensington (I wanted Diana’s apartments but they refused to let me have them) I mean come on, I am the next Diana – just look online at what my fans say!!
I hope you have enjoyed reading this chapter of my book all about ME – I will let you have some more once I have arranged my fee for letting this out of the bag!
“HRH-DOS-Megraine”

































