So alls well that ends well.
The actress got to kiss her prince…
Happy ever after and all that shit!
And now it’s time to move on.
By the morning our princess will be up the duff. Morning sickness, zero control over the remote control and the Invictus Games will take a toll on our American beauty. She’ll want to stab her ginger prince in the eye when she’s seven days overdue with her third kid and he pisses off out with his mates for a curry.
She’ll rue the day that she fell for Harry by the time that number four is on the way.
Roll on ten years and Harry will be making Meghan watch the FA cup final with four kids and two farting dogs.
They’ll settle down to watch Britain’s got talent. Their kids will twat each other and get sent to bed. Meghan will pour herself a large one. Harry will open his fourteenth beer of the evening after a barbecue and they’ll argue over the acts on Britain’s got Talent
“Granny would fucking love that act!”
“Would she fuck! You great ginger tosser. She’s a cantankerous old bitch. She just wants Susan Boyle to win again!”
“Do you think that Amanda Holden looks even younger than last year?”
“Mmmm, I think that I can see the scars though! Or maybe they cloned her?”
As they are hissing at each other, they hear a child’s footsteps above.
“AND YOU CAN GET BACK TO BED, YOU LITTLE FUCKER”
“Ewww, that dog stinks of shit! What have you fed him?”
“I let him eat some cream off my plate last night”
“It’s the adverts. Do you fancy a shag?”
“Thanks for asking but no thanks. I’d give David Walliams one though!”
“I’m going to watch the boxing then!”
“Go fuck yourself Harry! Get me a glass of wine first though”