The British tabloid media lost its mind Tuesday when a clearly uncomfortable suited Prince William dropped a heated f-bomb, according to observers, during a Wimbledon match where the poor guy had to sit there jerking around with his tie while the commoners were in their shorts and polo shirts.
You’re f–king right I’d be dropping f-bombs when royal rules state — I’m just assuming here — that the future king of England is required to wear an uncomfortable suit to a blazing hot tennis match.
Look at this guy squirming in his seat. It’s like a fat guy in a suit at a wedding. That nonsense needs to come off. Rip it the f–k off, Bill.
— matthew (@rdgboi13) July 5, 2022
Yes, being a royal must be amazing. You shake some hands. You visit hospitals. You order heads chopped the f–k off, if needed. You jumping huge piles of f–k you money in your castles. You don’t have to hit up StubHub for the best Wimbledon tickets or the hottest soccer tickets.
I know what you’re sitting there thinking at lunch as you suck down some AC after busting ass roofing a house: Prince Bill needs to stop being a little b–ch and deal with it.
You have a point.
But, us guys have to stick together during un-f–king-comfortable moments like this when all of us would rather throw on flops, a Judas Priest shirt and a pair of cargos to catch some flaming hot Wimbledon Sweet 16 action.
This is about guys being guys. This is about having FUN!
Prince Bill can’t even crack open a Boddington 16-ouncer and raise it in the air after an incredible point. I get that being rich and riding around in armored cars is cool and all, but it’s moments like this where I wouldn’t trade being rich for actually having a pulse.
Bill can’t even let loose with a finger whistle that he learned at camp back in the day.
That must f–king suck, bad.
Add in the fact that this guy just turned 40, he has three young kids and he can’t even get a buzz on at a tennis match and you have to feel a tiny bit bad for the guy.
I want a reality show on what this guy does for fun. I want to see him turn on Van Halen Pandora in his Land Rover Defender for the drive over to his buddy Chuck’s mansion to crush garage beers and tinker with keg lines to Chuck’s patio taps.
Hey Queen mum, f–k off. Let your grandson drop f-bombs and sing the chorus in Toto’s classic “Hold the line” on his way over to Chuck’s house.
Live a little, bro. They’re not going to fire you.