”Fuck me, it’s Prince Charles!”
So, there I was this evening hanging around outside the Scottish Parliament building in Edinburgh, taking a few snaps in a moody sunset for my Flickr stream and chatting to a fellow tourist who, coincidentally lives just over the Ridgeway from me in the Duke of Cornwall’s model town development of Poundbury.
All of a sudden, a door opens, and amongst a big knot of armed goons, is the Duke himself, HRH Prince Charles on his way from some official beano to a feast of virgin flesh in Holyrood Palace.
“Oooh, fuck noooo…” says Poundbury guy, “I come four hundred miles for my holidays, and who’s the first person I meet? The sodding landlord…”
Oh, how we laughed.
I did not see his Camilla.
Bollocks to this, I’m back home to Weymouth.
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