This was literally my first thought.

So many sad trolls in this comment section. Literally no one else is biting, except for your perfect response.

Last ginger king? One hint: it ends in an 8. He was supposedly smoking hot when he was Harry’s age.

I don’t understand the hate on those pants. They looked fine. He looked fine.

Sorry for bothering you. We’ll stop reaching through your computer and grabbing your throat to pull you into the comments of an online blog article. Now you can get back to work. Feel better?

Because for the commentariat to exist, bars must constantly raise and goals must constantly shift. It reminds me of the Buddhist idea of hungry ghosts. No matter how much you feed them, their appetites are never satiated. They always want more. And like ghosts, the commentariat doesn’t actually exist. It’s all…

Old Dutch not Comet

Yes, I see now. So many proofs!

Oh! I see what you mean.

Exactly. That’s why the mothers father, Earl Spencer in the case of Henry and Will, George VI in the case of Charles, and my no-good, two-timing, double-dealing, Gable-look-alike grandfather who didn’t tell anyone where the will is in my case, are my references above.

Not a fan of them on anyone

Exactly!

Many stars to you!

Hi back!!

I think it’s wind.

Static cling on the Isle of Brittania? How in the hell us that possible?

In affairs of the hair, he’s a Spencer. Mom’s dad, the late Earl Spencer, is where the bald arises.

I know what happens to my pants when I see a pic of Harry. But that wasn’t the question.

De acuerdo

Better than that museum is visiting an actual villa inside Pompeii and being able to touch a mosaic or fresco, even though you shouldn’t, but this is Italy. Walking through Pompeii is probably the best thing I’ve ever experienced that didn’t involve sex or perfectly-made Chilean empanadas.