I, Prince Harry, got dumped this weekend for being awesome.

Can you believe that? She broke up with me, Harry? I’m a prince, dammit! I’m royalty! I shag trollops like her on the way to dates!

The press is going to be brutal on this. I know it. Dad is going to be pissed off. She told them it’s too cold in England. Can you believe that? Too fucking cold? Like anyone thinks that’s the reason. What a stupid fucking tart. We all know she’s leaving because I’m too much of a bad ass.

That twat never could handle how awesome I am. She got all bent out of shape about me dressing up like a Nazi. That was brilliant though. She was pissed off about me snorting vodka. Also brilliant. And what was the big deal with me hitting on hot Canadian bartenders? I’m Harry. I’m a prince. Royalty cheats. Deal with it.

I guess this is the price you pay for being so ace. This sort of thing would never happen to William. But how many pairs of knickers has William talked himself into? Like three? That’s unacceptable by Harry standards. Un-fucking-acceptable.

Whatever. I’m not going to feel like shit today. I’m headed to the pub.

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