The Duchess of Cambridge and the lust of my not so regal loins has been out and about this past week helping to celebrate the Diamond Jubilee of Queen Elizabeth, which apparently is a monster to-do in England, even bigger than the Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark reunion performance this July, or maybe about the same level of buzz.
Kate Middleton just makes me want to charge with my lance drawn headlong into her ramparts and secrete her from the tower jail cell where they keep her in betwixt making appearances with various balding members of the House of Windsor to honor their royal rule. And when she’s in red, looking all formally done up, she just looks like a Go Sign of fertility, with whom I want to make many half-blooded offspring (half blue blood, half blood with a BAC of approximately .17 most days). Oh, Kate, hit me up on your royal Twitter account please, we must be together. Enjoy.
As you know, I’ve had plans in place for some time now to rescue Kate Middleton from the House of Windsor, specifically, Buckingham Palace and her life of dedication to the crown and Prince Bill. But only after she becomes Queen will she become my queen, as I charge the ramparts with nothing but my trustee steed (’92 Corolla) and my lance (okay, you know what that is) and whisk away her royal hotness to the woods of Sherwood where together we’re dine on spitfire roaster possum and raw sex.
That’s the plan at least. And every time Kate shows up in public looking like she did at the Claridge Hotel last evening in London, her lean hot royal body and regal beagle on display, not to mention a little leg beneath a slit in her dress, well, all the details of the plan, a likely suicide mission, it all just flashes before me eyes like Destiny itself.
Honestly, I’d settle for just an above the knee caress before my beheading. Enjoy.
As you may know, after Kate Middleton becomes the Queen of England, she and I have a secret plan to abscond with her from the castle and take her to the woods to be my rebel hottie squeeze. The plan is so secret that not even Kate knows about it yet, only my allergists, the right and honorable Dr. Franz Ketchum, who has been inoculating me with various antibodies for several months now so my peat moss allergies won’t cause me undue discomfort when I do abscond to a woodland environment.
I can’t remember a royal that I just liked leering at so much as the Duchess of Cambridge. Out at a screening for the film African Cats, with Prince Bill somewhere in tow, Kate just compels me to want to scale her battlements and enter her humid castle keep with my lance extended. That’s it, I’ve run out of crude analogies. Enjoy.
Kate Middleton is like the new royal show puppy. They send her everywhere to do something ceremonial everyday somewhere. I would never call my fair lady a pimpstress, as her cause is just, but when the royals finally got a hold of a hot woman in the arsenal, man, they’ve been firing her off talents daily somewhere.
Let’s be brutally honest, nobody wanted to see Princess Ann bend over to shovel dirt for a tree planting ceremony to dedicate a new building. But watching Kate Middleton in a short dress working so hard not to flash her upskirt while digging for a righteous cause, that ought give you a proper English biggee. Enjoy.
Sure, she’s a million leagues now into her royal service, but we still know that the Duchess of Cambridge is yearning for a little taste of civilian. And, oh, how we’d like to be her rebellious fling on the side. Who’s more commoner than we?
Kate Middleton was at yet another public service exhibition yesterday, this time in Dulwich to celebrate arts for the kiddies, and when she was able to get out of camera frame from her father-in-law Prince Chuck, looked all kinds of regally do-able. That does seem rude I suppose, but this is the hottest Brit to hit the House of Windsor since Diana, and she no longer walks among us, so Duchess Catherine now holds the title of hottest blue-blood. And, man, how we’d like to delve into her royal treats (again, such a rude thing to say, but honesty above all else). Enjoy.
Kate Middleton. Talk about a real pro. The future Queen of England got herself some serious training in how to avoid an awkward upskirt whilst seated in a short skirt at a formal event, with not only tremendous use of the thigh muscles to squeeze her gams tightly, but, oh, I hate to give this little trick away, use of the clutch purse during the inevitable change of leg positions. Damn thee clutch!
We have looked, and we have leered, and we have investigated, but we can not find the Duchess of Cambridge’s panties anywhere during the course of her extended seated ceremony in Leicester yesterday in honor of something royal and charitable. I’d like to honor Kate for her tremendous efforts, but mostly I’m just feeling sad. Bollocks.
P.S. She is still the hottest royal around, so we won’t stay mad for long.