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Northolt Airfield West London. One evening in September the new King waits surrounded by his family
One evening at Northolt Airfield

“Oh bloody hell its my brother,” Thought William, and Harry, and Charles and Andrew as they assembled at Northolt Airfield in West London.

“Screwed any nice school girls recently?” Charles asked as his brother approached.

“No,” he replied with a steely stare, “Have you?”

Charles turned on his heel, “Insolent bastard, can I have his head cut off now I’m King?” he enquired of his chief flunky who attended him dressed like the doorman at the Ritz hotel.

“I don’t believe so your Majesty,” he replied.

“Well fucking get the law changed, I’m the fucking King now, remember.” Charles said pleasantly.

Something caught his eye, “Oh fucking hell.” said Charles as Andy made a bee line for Liz Truss, “I said wear trousers, didn’t I, so she wears a fucking skirt, somebody stop him before we have another constitutional crisis.”

Camilla soothed Charles, “Be calm, deep breaths,” she said “Don’t have a heart attack, he’s not worth it.”

The equery got to Andy before he had even got his hand to the clasp on her bra strap, “Yes we have that in common,” Liz laughed, “Fuck Nicola Sturgeon, myself metaphorically but you physically,” she grinned, “But a threesome is going a bit far.”

Kate and Megan strolled towards the plane together, “When’s it due?” Kate asked politely as she viewed Megan’s typically American bloated tummy.

Megan ignored it, “I really like your dress, so chic, so retro, I’m sure it will be back in fashion soon.”

“I do hope so, Mummy has a container full coming from China,” she simpered, “It’s so much easier to cash in on fashion than having to do a J.K.Rowling on family history.

“So Bro, how you doing?” William asked Harry.

“No comment, you’ll have to ask Meg,” Harry repiled sullenly.

“Under the thumb too then bro,” William queried.

“No comment, you’ll have to ask Megan,” Harry repiled again, “She’ll nag the fuck out of me if I say anything without her lawyer approving it.”

“Yeah, I know, always easier to give in,works for me,” William sighed.

“It’s all fucking right for you, bro, Kate’s fit,” Harry sighed.

“Good point bro,” William replied.

Charles inspected the RAF guard. “Ah Flight Lieutenant,” he said addressing a young female officer, “For fucks sake put some trousers on my bloody randy brother is coming with us.”

“Yes your majesty,” she said awkwardly as Andy winked at her.

“I was only saying to Constantine, my favourite Begonia. this morning the last fucking thing we want is Andy screwing a serving officer on the fucking coffin.”

“Yes your majesty, only he is very fit, and single.” she replied.

“Oh for fuck’s sake which idiot let women in the RAF.” he moaned.

“Don’t say “Fuck” on camera dear they can lip read,” Camilla councilled.

“Yes my treasure, what would I do without you,” Charles replied.

“Play the field like me, have some fun?” Andy chipped in.

“I’m seventy odd fucking years old,” Charles chipped in, “When you’re seventy odd years old and married it’s a bit late to play the fucking field."

“He can’t afford to we I didn’t sign a pre nup,” Camilla said, “And take your hand off my bum.”

“Sorry,” the brothers said in unison, looking daggers at each other.

“How’s the Bullimea,” Megan asked airily.

“Fine, you should try it,” Kate chuckled, “It must be such a faff having to get new clothes because the old ones don’t fit anymore.

“I feel for you having to leave the poor children to go to visit all those ghastly countries,” Megan sighed.

“Yes, especially the USA, everyone is so rude and fat, except your father, he’s lovely,” Kate smiled, “And he has such a wonderful fund of stories.”

“It’s all lies!” Megan retored.

“Yes, but we mustn’t let the truth spoil a good story must we?” Kate replied.

The waiting continued, Ryan Air was not happy for the RAF to requisition their aircraft to fly Northolt to Aberdeen instead of Gatwick to Belfast.

They stood in a huddle on th tarmac wondering what the fuck to do next. The RAF band had run out of music and were doing Jazz improvisations very badly and the Lieutenant still hadn’t changed her skirt for a pair of trousers.

Camilla saw it first. Andy’s woody. She was impressed but at Seventy big cocks just meant a lot of pain, so she prefferred Charles.

“He has a woody, do something,” Camilla hissed.

“Don’t be fucking thick I’m not queer,” Charles replied.

“Get Sarah,” Camilla hissed.

Royal aides had bundled Sarah into the boot of the Range Rover just in case. And wisely so.

“Release the hounds,” Charles ordered using the secret code word.

Sarah was not amused, “I am not amused.” she said, “One minute I’m signing Budgie the Helicopter books in Poundland in Kensington High street and then I’m bundled into the boot of a Range Rover.”

“Still flogging the books?” Charles chuckled, “Should use them for firewood.”

“We are,” Andy said, “We have five bedrooms full of the damned things not that we are living together.”

“Or having sex,” Sarah sighed.

“Oh cut the crap, just sort him out will you, he can’t be on TV with a giant woody can he?” Charles ordered, “Cluster round look outwards so the Papper-fuckng-nazis can’t see and let Sarah sort him out.”

“And if I don’t want to?” Sarah queried.

“I’m the fucking king so it’s treason.” he replied.

“Good point,” Sarah agreed.

They clustered round so no one could see and somehow Sarah made Andy very happy.

“Happy ending all done,” Sarah announced with a smile on her face.

“And - Now - in - the - distance - the sound - of - Police - Sirens,” the BBC announcer announced like he had a twelve inch scaffolding pole up his ass.

“Her-Royal-Highnes, has - told - the - RAF - to - stuff - the - plane - and - she - will - drive - the hearse down herself, clear the motorway, she’s coming through.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Charles sighed.

“It’s what Dad would have done,” Andy reminded them.

“It’s four hundred fucking miles what do we do for the next hour and a half?” Camilla asked showing a flair for mathematics.

Andy looked at Sarah, Sarah looked at Andy and they rushed hand in hand for the nearest bush surprising several doggers and an ITN News team.

“Where’s my fags,” Camilla asked.

“Suppose we’ll have to send the the fucking Corgis to Battersea Dogs home,” Charles said gloomily.

“Mummy says you should try eBay,” Kate suggested.

“My mum says you shouldn’t do nothing for nothing,” Megan suggested.

“Er, yes I suppose so,” Kate agreed.

“Anyway eBay don’t do live animals, maybe try Craigslist,” Megan suggested.

“Yes, you will get better money for them in the states,” Kate agreed.

“How many you got?” Megan asked.

“Seems like a thousand but it’s probably ten,” Charles replied.

“We can always get some more from China, they all look the same don’t they,” Kate suggested, “I’m sure Mumy knows somebody who can get some.”

“Look it’s piddling round the edges,” Charles complained, “I’m on bloody benefits now, Wills gets the Duchy cash and I’m bloody buggered.”

“I’d bulldoze Poundbury straight away, if I were in charge” Harry announced.

“Then it’s a fucking good job you were born second,” Charles replied.

“I suppose you have to make some staff redundant?” Liz Truss butted in as everyone seemed to have forgotten she was there.

“Redundant, bah, “ Charles replied, “That Basher chapppie gave us the wheeze, faked some payments from Megan here and sacked the lot of em for gross misconduct, selling secrets.”

“When?” Camilla demanded.

“Last night,” Charles replied.

“Don’t you ever do anything like that again without asking me first,” Camilla insisted, “They will have legged it with most of the silver by now you idiot. Have them arrested first next time.”

“Oh fucking bollocks you’re right.” he replied.

And so they stood in a huddle in the cold and rain watched by literally tens of people on terrestrial TV as history was made. The fastest speed ever recorded by a Jaguar Hearse 155MPH on the M8 near Cuumbernauld
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