Royal deception*

It would be so cool to be on the British Royal Family because it doesn’t mean a thing, does it? I mean, I’m the Duke of York, ok? What does that mean? (incorporating the character) Alright, I’m the fourth in the line of sucession. I’m never gonna be king! I wouldn’t only have to kill my brother, but also kill my both nephews... that would make it pretty obvious I dit it. Unless... it was a car accident! AND, all three of them happened to be in the same car. And Elizabeth as well! That woman just won’t seem to die. Ok. I’m the King of the United Kingdom! What the hell does it mean? I mean... what do you see when you look into the Queen on a coin, or into me? Andrew, King of England!
In my delusions, you’re right. Fucking Prince Andrew. What’s with the “Prince”, anyway? (back in my own skin) I’d just call him Andrew. Mentioning him, of course, not adressing to him. Unless I was Dutchess of York. In that case, I wouldn’t call him Prince absolutely. Unless he showed up in a sparkly 70s suit, or something.


*false cognates