Get naked? I’d buy an elephant.


Unfortunately, because this country is so screwed up about anything involving nakedness or sex, it is with little surprise that we find ourselves amidst an almighty uproar concerning Prince Harry partaking in a questionable game of pool whilst stark-bollock naked.

This is poor form for a royal, say those who, ironically, have pictures of Harry’s mother plastered all over their mantelpiece. He should know better, what with his grandfather recovering from illness, say the majority who have spent the last two weeks morbidly watching the Sky News ticker for note of a royal passing.

The army are in uproar. The queen is probably disgusted. Word has it that Jeremy Kyle is already crouched on one knee, shouting mercilessly at a picture of our prince, demanding answers and lie detector tests and spelling words out letter-by-letter (often incorrectly).

The ginger lad is in trouble and we’re all supposed to be very cross with him indeed.

I’m not. You see, if I were a prince, I would live like one. I’d buy an Elephant and ride it around London. If anyone dared complain, I’d make the elephant (which I would have had specially trained to be an attack elephant) eat them.

I’d also carry a sword, all of the time. I’d use it, too – mainly to eat with.

I’d buy one of Christian Bale’s Batman outfits and wear it to posh dinners. In fact, I’d wear it all of the time and in particular when riding my attack elephant down Oxford Street.

I’d never fill in my tax return, I wouldn’t tip in restaurants, I’d misuse Twitter, I wouldn’t stop at traffic lights and I definitely, definitely wouldn’t wear a cycle helmet.

In short, I’d be a bit of a rebel. Admittedly, I wouldn’t spend much time in public naked, but if the need arose (so to speak), I certainly wouldn’t hesitate to drop my pants.

Why? Because I’d be a fucking prince. That’s the simple reason. For the same reason Apple products are cool just because they are, if you’re a member of the royal family, and in particular one of the younger generation, you can do what the hell you want just because you can and you certainly shouldn’t ever be taken to task on it.

Go Harry. I next expect to see you abseiling from The Shard, dressed as Shirley Bassey, encased in one of those robot walking things from Alien 2.

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