Everything else failed: interviews, books, Netflix film, the Manhattan car chase. Still, the royal family remains loved and respected, not hidden behind sunglasses, making appointments with paparazzi.
How to convince the world of the horrors caused by The Firm or The Buckingham Palace mafia?
Gee, whiz! They have suffered. Look! Here comes that tear from her left eye. Please wait for it. It’s traveling up her elbow. and squeezing through her shoulder. Made it to her cheek. Bingo! Her eye is watering up. Wait for it. It’s parked in her eye. She’s looking glassy-eyed. It better pop. Here it comes. One tear down her left cheek.
Rap songs never have a melody but lots of mean criticism, vile words, and brimming with anger.
Writing a rap song is easier than cranking up that tear.
They’ll refer to Her Majesty, Queen of England as The Purse Lady who stole their happiness and inheritance, exiling them away from England.
“What rhymes with England?”
“Don’t know. Maybe the South Park people might help us out and collaborate?”
“William will be the new bastard, Kate the yacht girl, and you had the smallest room in the castle.”
“I think the maids had the smallest room.”
“Prince Philip said: You visit movie stars. You don’t marry them. So I’ll nail him, too.”
Kanye West declined to do their rap song.
So the Suits lady decided to do the vocal. She could even receive a Grammy, which would definitely change the narrative, equating her alongside all the marvelous and substantive national women entertainers and humanitarians, presenting a robust and independent image of a woman with a platform to incorporate as a universal expression of freedom. She is me!
Her husband will accompany her with maracas. Castanets were too tricky to master.
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