Two regular British holidaymakers, Bill and Katie, and their standard issue lil’ bae, George, arrived in Sydney yesterday.
Their advent on colonial soil was heralded with a fanfare best described as ‘appropriately nonplussed’; by the hanging of festive buntings, the effusive cooing of politicians and the elicitation of heartfelt greetings like ‘Welcome Will and K8 <3’, ‘George u r so cute bb!’, and ‘Who gives a fuck? What the fuck? I don’t care about this. Fuck them and their family. Fuck!’
‘Fuckfuckfuck’, decreed a vocal segment of the populous who gave so very few fucks, and yet still felt moved enough to let everyone know that not a single resounding fuck was given about some random broad, her bald, petulant ward and her baby; so self-righteously discerning were they in their consumption of news media that they could not possibly fathom stooping so low as to develop an opinion on the matter other than ‘She has a neck like a fkn racehorse,’ or perhaps even move on and go about their day unperturbed.
In keeping with that democratically elected theme (‘WTF?’), here is a rundown of the Royal Australian Tour Itinerary from Days 01 and 02, hereafter referred to as ‘What the fuck is Prince George doing today? And what the fuck did he do yesterday?’
‘Sleeping’ and ‘soiling himself’, are the most likely answers, probably. George – an eight-month-old baby more powerful than you, though not so powerful that he has developed the faculties for voluntary control over urination or defecation – has not been spotted in public since disembarking from his private jet mid-afternoon yesterday. In his stead, lesser delegates William and Catherine have been charged with keeping up appearances.
So what the fuck did they do yesterday?
They copped a feel.
They took business meetings of grave importance that did not go well.
They measured wind speed and direction with a single moistened digit [southeast to southwesterly 15 to 25 km/h becoming west to southwesterly and light in the late evening].
They cracked intimate husband and wife jokes about the size of a certain somebody’s Nimbus 2000.
William did #selfie, unsure as to where exactly he should be looking until it was too late, golly.
They assembled an emergency quorum of United Nations emissaries.
And suddenly, if only for a moment, they felt so small standing in the presence of real majesty.
Today, per reports in every single one of Australia’s media outlets, Kate showed off her Street Style by wearing a dress in the Blue Mountains [it’s Diane Von Furstenberg; it has already sold out].
Soon, they’ll take in some trees, plant some trees, and have an audience with Prime Minister Tony Abbott[‘s Trees] at Admiralty House.
Tomorrow, George is slated to make reluctant public appearances at The Royal Easter Show, Manly and Taronga Zoo, where a bilby enclosure will take his name, the Prince George Alexander Louis of Cambridge Bilby Enclosure, née Regular Bilby Enclosure.
“I suspect George’s first word might be bilby. Only because koala is harder to say,” Prince William joked to everyone in the media.
‘Bilby’, or ‘fuck’. Whatever comes first.
Photo: Ryan Pierse, Chris Jackson, Brendan Thorne and Cameron Spencer via Getty
