4. I’m fascinating, sure, but it’s not like Kate’s womb is some magical, glittery nightclub.
Despite my special status, I’ve been gestating in essentially the same confined space where all us babes hang out for nine-ish months. Seriously, even my Mum doesn’t have a golden cervix.
5. Which makes your frightening obsession all that more preposterous.
I realize I am, perhaps, the most exciting thing to happen in Great Britain in many a decade, but the fact that people choose to watch the hospital door you think my parents might enter? Absolute bollocks.
6. And why do you know who the Duchess’s gynecologists are?
Like, are the “elite” commoners (LOL at that oxymoron) wanting to become patients so they can have pap smears like a princess? Deliver like a duchess? I assure you, Dr. Marcus Setchell an Dr. Alan Farthing have no time for plebeian privates.
7. I guess there are just a lot of arseholes working in media.
Mum isn’t craving curry. She’s not packing a go-bag full of diamonds. She’s appalled that a creature called a “Snooki” would try and impart any wisdom onto her, and even further astonished that any credible organization would report this as news.
9. I would like to go ahead and get a meeting set up with Beyoncé and Jay Z.
While I’m uncertain as to their official titles, they seem to be likeminded royals the Windsor family can relate to. When I’m ready to play with others, I’ve heard that Blue Ivy is a pretty cool kid.
11. Get ready to bow down!
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