All right, enough is enough. We thought we could just sit back and soak in your adoration, but apparently you peons just don’t know when to stop. We swear to God, if we get another binky with a picture of our great-grandmother on it, we’re going to spit up even more than usual. And not to name names, but Mrs. Rose Dexley of Bath, if we needed another bottle that wasn’t made of Sterling Silver, and wasn’t used by King George III, maybe we would ask. Dad was right. Poor people are gross.
We are also entirely unamused by the constant stream of frivolities and distractions that flow unabated into our gold-trimmed nursery. Please, Mr. Jackson Grauch of Adelaide, Australia, we need not know how to get to “Sesame Street,” which seems a vile and disgusting back alley. You seem graced with the same thoughtfulness and wherewithal as your cricket team, which, if we am totally honest, has made my first ever Ashes series as boring as my pile of purple crap with some Mexican urchin child plastered on it.
That said, we find the one they call “Elmo” to be most inspiring. We demand an audience with him, that we may snuggle his assuredly soft fur. The rest of you, just can it.
His Most Royal Excellency Prince George Alexander Louis of Cambridge