It happened. We can now all die happy. Life has reached peak. It cannot get any better. The maximum pleasure level is amongst us. Pippa Middleton is married. The magical man who took her dating, up until marriage was James Matthews, big brother of Spencer from Made in Chelsea fame, that big old pile of shite.
The Royal Box
It was of course, the wedding of the century. Okay, lets be real, no it wasn’t. That title belongs to literally anyone else. Anyway, Pippa’s dating career has been extensively followed and documented by this blog. She has excited me with her dating life, looking at all the posh toffs she picked up along the way. All the men she has dragged into the Royal Box at Wimbledon.
I don’t mean to be the definition of a ‘bad’ feminist and highlight she might still be a bit miffed she wasn’t the Middleton sister to bag herself a one way ticket into the Royal Family?
Right now, I’m just hoping and praying that in this wedding’s wake there is a increase in fan fiction of Harry and Pippa having a secret affair. This is a free idea and I won’t claim commission on it.
A few months ago, I wrote a piece casting my doubts on rumors regarding a secret romance between Prince Harry and Pippa Middleton. It was clearly a big pile of stinking shit. It was the Daily Mail, or some other dead end rag, on a mad one fantasy. It was dumping out every fan fiction cliché. It was laden with tales of secret meet ups in hotels and the like. It was so ridiculous. It was just so maddening that someone got paid to write it… The cheek of that being someone’s job…
Well, anyway, because your gal is always right, I am here to say, she’s is engaged. She is not engaged to a ginger who loves to dress up in Nazi uniform and be lied to about his paternity but rather James Matthews.
Matthews is the older brother of Made In Chelsea star Spencer, who, again, is someone I have no time for, that whole show I have no time for. I am the target audience of that show; young, female, posh and so on and I just cannot deal with it. It’s just a lot of blinking and eating brunch; two of my favourite past times. It’s just boring. There’s nothing to get me hooked, surprisingly. That’s all you need to know. He’s posh and is banging Pips.