Avery, on Being King:

"Sure, I'm a useless bastard. But it’s not like Buckingham Palace hasn’t had its share of them. Am I right?”


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Avery for Bloody King of England

Once upon a time there was an old Queen named Lizzie who ruled the British Empire. She was married to a stuffed buffoon called Phil, and together they spawned a series of flops. Their first, and most famous disappointment, Charlie, was slated to be King once his fun-loving mother gave up the royal ghost. But, alas for him, his mommy was destined to live to like, a 130. As well, Liz and the rest of the world saw that her barking homely boy was a total washout, a pompous git, and a self-proclaimed tampon, who, while fit to ride a horse (and even marry one), certainly didn’t have what it took to be King.

And that’s where I come in… My name’s Avery Ant and if you’ll kindly watch the video below and read my little treatise comparing me to Charlie, you’ll see why I have the right stuff for the regal job.

 

Why I’m a better choice than Charles for the title of Bloody King.

Let’s look at the facts, shall we?

Most Bagged Birds

Okay, Charles got to deflower Diana. That’s pretty good. But we all know he probably didn’t enjoy it. That’s completely pathetic. Whereas I’m a total machine who loves sex so much that I’ll have it with practically anyone. The proof? I spent an entire weekend putting the blocks to The Bride of Chucky (See the picture above in which I am handing her a hit of LSD). And I did it sober!

Advantage: Me. By my calculation, it’s two for Charles (Diana and Camilla), and a cast of thousands for Avery – in fact, I’m getting bonked right now.

Social Gaffes

Charles: The Prince of Pompous can always be counted on to blurt out something that is so harebrained and laughably out-of-touch that it’s actually impressive in its utter stupidity. And until the day comes when Charlie’s butler doesn’t have to apply toothpaste to the King-in-the-wings’ toothbrush, or steroid cream to his itchy aristocratic testicles, we can count on more of the same foot-in-mouth disease from this pampered gasbag.

Avery: Sure, I’m a dope-smoking boozehound, but look at the two pictures above and ask yourself this: Whose hand would you rather shake?

Advantage: No contest, when it comes to making a flaming jackass of himself, Charles is King.

Better Coat of Arms

The Royal Family Coat of Arms is pretty decorative, although its motto “We are far better than the commoner scum that is not fit to kiss our privileged arseholes!” is pretty condescending. My Coat of Arms doesn’t have any of those creepy standing lions wearing crowns or unicorns propped into bizarre sexual humping positions, but is simply a tasteful rendition of some of my many illegitimate children.

Advantage: It’s a close one, but I’m gonna say me.

Birth & Title

Charles: From birth, Chuckles was known as His Royal Highness, Prince Charles of Edinburgh. A pretentious start – and it gets worse: Prince Laughing Stock eventually became Duke of Cornwall, Duke of Rothesay, Earl of Carrick, and, being the greedy bastard that he is, he also aquired the additional titles Baron of Renfrew, Lord of the Isles and Prince and Great Stewart of Scotland, blah, blah, blah…

Avery: Sure, my mom is the Queen Ant, but she’s always calling me a useless bastard. So my lineage is suspect. Then again, it’s not like Buckingham Palace hasn’t had its share of suspect and useless bastards, is it?

Advantage: Me. We’re both hopeless tools, but at least I don’t hide behind titles.

The Cute Factor

The camera doesn’t lie. Okay, I admit it: I’ve got that “Creature-From-Another-Planet” look – but come on, compared to Chuck’s frightful mug, I’m a sexed-up runway model named Flavio Beefcake. And I think we can all agree that it’s time that Great Britan finally has a royal that isn’t in constant need of a bag over their head.

Advantage: Me: Given the competition, how could I lose?

And The Winner Is…

Avery Ant! Total it up and you’ll see it’s no surprise – I’m the better choice for Bloody King of Great Britain. So let’s do something about this, shall we? I suggest you all form an angry mob and storm the castle – like in the good ol’ days.

Once your inside, it’s pretty straightforward: Anarchy, plunder, murder, pillage, and all leading to that glorious moment where you drag Charles out to the street and lop his royal head off.

Sometimes change has to be difficult – but lucky for you, in this instance that’s not the case.

And if you’re not going to do the mob rules thing, then can you at least sign the petition to make Avery Ant The Bloody King? If you still have doubts, picture Charles on the throne with the crown on his head and Queen Camilla by his side. Can you see it? You’re scared now, aren’t you? Okay, so sign the petition. Remember, it’s for the good of Great Britain.

Bloody Hell, I want that bleeding Ant as my King!
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I am 18 years of King Crowning age.

Sod Off

 
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