It's good to be the Prince
It must be nice to be the future King of England, because you can get away with groping a chick's boob and having both her and her mother laugh it off. Then you take a leggy blonde back to your barracks (?!?!?) and kick her out at 4am because you're tired. Then you wake up in the morning and drive around a tank, running over or shooting at whatever you damned well please. I can just imagine what William's itinerary looks like...
10am - Wake up. Drink three pints.
11:30am - Call Grand-mum, tell commanding officer to piss off cuz I'm on
the phone with the freakin' Queen.
11:35am - Drink four pints.
11:45am - Call pops. Rub it in that he'll never be the king because
he married horse face.
12noon - Lament mother's death.
12:01am - Get in tank. Drive to pub. Buy pints for entire
crew. Blow up pub.
2pm - Nap
7pm - Wake up. Eat steak and kidney pie.
8pm - Take Harrier jet to club. Grope
everything. Shove tongue down throats. All of them.
3am - Call girlfriend drunk. Tell her to suck it up. Throw in
"who be the king, beyatch!"
