Written by aydi
Rating:

Share/Bookmark
Print this

Tuesday, 31 January 2012

It had not been a good decade or so, for the Royal Family since Princess Diana had been murdered. Their popularity wasn't what it was and the Queen was concerned about their steady decline and the loss of public funding. After all she had three lazy and useless sons to care for.

She had been thinking it over and over for a solution to this problem for months, without any success. Then one evening, whilst reading Edward his bedtime story, the neutered prince was playing with some plastic toy dinosaurs and excitedly telling his mummy all about a film he had seen about dinosaurs, all living on a remote island.

The next day whilst she was having her back and crack waxed, the Queen had an epiphany,

"That's it One will have to clone the Queen Mother, everyone liked her and her green teeth, plus of course if One had another member of the household, One could claim more money from the public purse. Andrew could have his new helicopter and golf clubs, Edward could have some new boys, as his were worn out and Charles would be able to employ another footman to wipe his arse for him, it certainly would cut down on his laundry bills.

The Queen leapt up, half-groomed and set about working out how to proceed with her plan. She phoned up super-brain Stephen Hawking, he said he could come round to the Palace once his batteries were recharged, he admitted he had been feeling a bit under the weather, but a cup of Norton anti-virus and slipping into standby for a couple of hours should work, that way when he re-booted, he could ensure he was charged up enough to attend.

After a difficult and long chat, the Queen doesn't understand Steve very much, "One would sooner deal with a man rather than a robot, but One has to make way for progress, One supposes."

It was concluded that they required a DNA sample to enable a clone to ever happen. This proved a lot more difficult than they had forseen, the Queen Mother obviously, had decomposed long before she had died, so they couldn't dig her up and retrieve a sample. Then Liz remembered one of her corgis and it's favourite toy, one of the QM's old sanitary pads, which it had refused to let go since she had died. They called for Prince Philip and he quickly dispatched the animal with a shotgun and a big grin, prised open it's mouth and retrieved the pad.

The Queen then called upon the services of Robert Winston, famous for his pet test tube babies which he used to make. He had the equipment and lab to proceed with the plan and he owed the Queen a right royal favour, after all she did catch him fiddling with one of the child princes. The project was started and nine month's later, the results were revealed to Liz and Phil. Not quite the bouncing "Baby QM" that Liz had expected, but a green toothed, wrinkled, hairy, four legged creature, a kind of scrotum on legs.

"Damn far more repulsive to the eyes than that whore Camilla" Prince Philip is quoted as saying.

Now the clone had become a negative, rather than a positive point. The public could not be allowed to see this thing, after all, the visible Royals already look half-horse, half human and so everyone agreed it should be kept in Buckingham Palace, in a special kennel, far away from the prying eyes of the media.

Although it had matted ginger hair, a round and over-sized body with the face of a dog that had been subject of experiments in a testing lab for far too long, Prince Andrew took quite a shine to it. He reckoned it was still more attractive than Fergie and it couldn't run up debts or run off with any man it saw, but he assured his mother that he didn't mind if her corgis had a sniff now and again. The Prince had found himself a new sexual partner and more importantly, his intellectual equal, it kept him busy and kept him from eating everything in reach of his fat, useless fingers.

So the Queen may not have managed to screw any more money from the state but, because Andrew was eating less, "Ze Queen ad some butter on her toast today, since the last time since le Fatboy was abroad on a , how you say?..... Ah yes a jolly " the Chef explained.

It was still a hefty saving from the food bill. Charles had a clean backside, Edward had plenty of backsides and so everyone lived happily ever after.

The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

If you fancy trying your hand at comedy spoof news writing, click here to join!
Print this

More by this writer

View Story
View Story
View Story
View Story
View Story
View Story

Share/Bookmark

73 readers are online right now!

Go to top