Monday, April 11, 2011

Burning love (British nobility style)

Hello everyone, I'm Spencer Atwall-Noddyfitztwattington the 3rd and I'm a minor British aristocrat. I've been invited to the upcoming royal wedding so I had to search out a date to take to the ceremonies.

I entreated my man servant, who's name I forget, to find me someone suitable. He searched high and low and one day he said he found the perfect date for me...
...unfortunately for me she wasn't inbred or conservative enough so I had to cruelly crush her spirit and her will to live. I insulted her and her family until she burst into tears and then finally into flames, after I had doused her in petrol of course. And because he nearly let me hook up with a common trollop, I had my man servant beaten, doused with petrol, and burned alive.

So I continued my search until I found my intellectual equal...

a pickled apple.

I was so enchanted by said apple that I proposed marriage to it with in twenty minutes of meeting it. It turned me down, so I ate it. After I doused it with petrol and burned it alive of course.

Feeling slightly vexed that I had no date to the royal wedding I decided to walk about a bit. It was then that I came up a bovine beauty who was accompanied by her lover, a high ranking member of the Labour Party.
I thrashed the Labour scoundrel with in an inch of his worthless life and I then made off with his cow. We've become engaged and are going to go to the royal wedding together but I'm afraid that my cow will upstage Camilla Parker Bowles in the beauty department. Whatever shall I do?

Perhaps I'll douse everything with petrol, light a match, call it a day.


1 comment:

Mnmom said...

It ain't easy being a royal on the edge.