You know, the lovely posters at Royal Dish constantly outdo themselves in finding great information, today this website was posted. The translation from Google is not the best, but it is a very detailed account of what it truly costs to keep Myra in the 300 pairs of nude stilettos she owns, all the freebies the royals get, how those who give them freebies get state medals for being sycophants, plus much more information.
Anyone who is truly disgusted with Myra and Ferd, their hedonistic lifestyle, the way they just take, take, and take, and how much they believe themselves to be above others, must check out this website.
Aw, isn’t she an icon of maternal feelings?
What is the most important part of this trip to New York? Why, Mary says it’s the shopping, of course, you stupid slow Danes!
Myra is about to cream herself because she is in a Real Store, as opposed to those shitty Danish stores she has to make do with. Please. She did not marry Ferd the Buffoon to wear Danish clothes! She did not birth four kids to wear Danish couture! Who are we fucking kidding! Bitch wants the real stuff, the stuff glam New Yorkers wear. Although, ‘tween you and me, glam New Yorkers don’t give a fucking shit about this trashy bogan shore!
Because Myra certainly did! She did the bump, the lump, the droopy ass, the back fat, and countless other horrific moves in a gown suited only for someone with a flawless figure. Which she DOES not have, despite her delusions.
Just look at the journalists’ faces!!! They’re all like “what the fuck? This chick thinks she can wear that? What a fucking nutter!”
Then she danced with her loving husband
Ah, if that is not the look of love, I don’t know what is!
Even one of the sugarboarders dared say the dress was one size too small – then a kool-aid drinking psychopath responded “what makes you say that?!”
Um, the bumps and lumps, you fucking delusional moron!
All of the fat that is being corseted off of Myra’s torso is being funneled to her arms, which look so thick that she cannot even put her arms down all the way. Next to her, a child-man playing dress up soldier because he hasn’t earned any of those fucking medals, a sassy lady, cute old man, and fat Madde.
“are we fucking done here already so I can go shop, shop, and oh yeah, SHOP????”
Translation – no one gives a flying fuck about stupid ass Myra, nor druggie Ferd, nor Myra’s ever growing collection of nude pumps, nor her overdesigned clothes, nor her overdone hair and makeup.
YOU ARE NOTHING, MYRA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Ah, there is the charming Myra we know and love. NOT paying an iota of attention to the person she is shaking hands with. Sleeve rolled up to show off her damn ugly designer bracelet, fixed frozen smile in place.
Poor kid. You gotta feel sorry for this little fucker. With a pussy-whipped, drug and drink-happy father and a narcissistic, selfish cow/camera whore for a mother, he has very little chance of having any emotional stability.
Someone’s not used to listening to Mum or Dad as an authority figure. This wouldn’t happen if the nannies weren’t the main source of discipline.
Christian is doing whatever the fuck he wants and it shows. He is usually crying, acting up, misbehaving, or all three whenever they are out.
Mum is too busy posing to stop her kid’s antics.
Dad is too busy dreaming of the next blonde he can fuck.