After a high profile extraction from his military posting to the front lines in Afghanistan, Prince Harry, third in line to the British Crown granted The Spoof's Mr Intolerant an exclusive interview.
Mr. I: Your Highness, Welcome back from overseas, I imagine the last few days of your posting moved quite quickly?
PH: Yes, once the story broke some decisions had to be made quite quickly and I was out of there almost immediately. It was really quite an imposition on the military as a whole and my unit in particular.
Mr I; How did it affect you?
PH: I won't lie. I was extremely disappointed about the way it came about. It actually cost me a fair bit as I did not even have time to stock up on the fags and grog at Kabul Duty Free. Being who I am I could have easily slipped about fifty cartons in the diplomatic bag and no one would have been the wiser. Back here paying retail, I think I am paying an extra a tenner a carton.
Mr I; What about your military career?
PH; There is not much chance of that progressing if every time I go anywhere dangerous I get pulled out as soon as anyone finds out. That would leave parades and training which is as boring as bat shit, I get enough of them at home and at nan's place.
Mr. I; Do you believe this will put an end to your official involvement with the military?
PH; I think so, I really could not be arsed just going through the motions. To be honest the posting was very important to me on a few levels and I have ticked the most important boxes.
Mr. I; What were those?
PH; Principally to shut up uncle Andrew and the way he always drones on about having some Argie rocket jockey trying to shove a sidewinder up his ample arse during the Falklands. It really pisses off dad the way he rubs his nose in it and if you ask me that would have been a much kinder fate than having to chuck one up Fergie on a regular basis. It also will make a top story to pull the birds at a few balls that are coming up.
MR. I; Where you ever in imminent danger whilst in Afghanistan?
PH; There were two occasions that were quite dangerous; the closest shave was when an Afghan man came at me with a knife.
Mr. I; The Taliban got that close?
PH; Hell no! This was the dad of some Afghan chick I was trying to knob in the town close to base, he found me in her room and went mental I thought I was in real trouble until all the experience kicked in and I was able to disarm him and get out of there.
Mr. I; Your talking about military experience?
PH; No, the experience of having dads finding me with their daughters. A knife is no challenge next to the shotties, meat cleavers and such that other dads have tried to use.
Mr I; What about the second occasion you spoke of?
PH; We were on a routine patrol and my lead scout stumbled upon a field of poppy and what looked to be a collection house. After a quick O-group it was decided to go cropping and see if we couldn't get some Afghan brown to send home. So I split the patrol into two groups, half started scraping and harvesting the poppy juice and I led the other half to the building to grab whatever stuff was in there. Unfortunately the farmer had a biological security system on the building that was activated as soon as I opened the door. Two massive fucken cobra's lashed out and nearly bit me on the tally whacker, I tell you, not one of my crew would have been willing to suck the poison out of that bite zone.
MR. I; The rest of your trip was fairly routine?
PH; Yeah, I did some forward air control telling the Combat Air Patrols where to drop ordinance and such. When that got boring I just used to piss off the yank pilots by using them as a voice activated radio-controlled aircraft. You know go here, turn left, loop the loop etc, drove em nuts. That's the military, days of absolute mind numbing boredom interspersed by minutes of absolute terror that has your sphincter residing next to your adams apple.
Mr. I; How did you find the Afghan people?
PH; I wasn't able to interact as much as I would have liked with the people in the town I had to be disguised most of the time.
Mr. I; Because of who you were?
PH; Yes, that father I spoke about earlier had told everyone about his daughter and me. If I was recognised in the town not only would he try and give me the Lance Armstrong special but I would have no chance of other dads letting me near their daughters. It was also necessary to avoid any future paternity suits. Not very satisfactory at all.
Mr. I; So no sign of Bin Laden?
PH; (laughs) No, I'll leave that to the special force blokes, they are sensational. We wanted to go for a drive to this curry place that had a good rep but the damn Paki border guards wouldn't let us into India; a couple of hours later I was tucking into a vindaloo that would strip the sandstone off Buckingham thanks to a bloke in the regiment and a covert food delivery operation. I also heard from pop that another Arab terrorist called something Fayed is also on their list as well but I don't know a lot about that.
Mr. I; So now, back in England what does the future hold for you?
PH; Most importantly I need to continue the good work I was doing before I left, giving shit to Will about how he better get married before all his hair disappears. I take full credit for this getting him back with Kate and most importantly I have to get around to nan's to pick up a diplomatic bag with a few packages and a dead cobra before pop steals my stash.