Considering sleeping with a married man whose wife doesn’t understand him? Girlfriends warning you it won’t work out? Look who’s Queen now, bitches.
On the surface, it was a classic case. He’s all like ‘My marriage is a sham’ and ‘We haven’t been intimate in years’ and ‘We’re only together for the children and the future of the hereditary monarchy’.
I read about them in the women’s magazines – Tatler, The Nanny and Debrett’s. He might claim they’re sleeping in separate Georgian mansions and then suddenly she’s pregnant with an heir.
But what can I say? I looked into those blue eyes and I trusted him. I believed that this man, this future King, didn’t just want to be in and out of me all day like a tampon but for us to be together.
From that day I vowed to destabilise his marriage, whether by tapping the phones at Kensington Palace or tipping off the press about her stalking that art dealer. Even better, we did it together.
It wasn’t easy when she started flinging shit in public, and the kids have never warmed to me, but my whispers of ‘That younger one’s a right diva, just like her’ paid off and he’s practically disinherited now.
We married, we cycled through a number of titles that his domineering mother and the resentful public were willing to accept, and next month he’s crowned at Westminster Abbey and I’ll be there as Queen. Not Queen Consort. Not King’s Concubine. Queen.
So ladies, if you’ve identified a married man of sufficient status naive enough to be pussystruck, ignore the warnings and have that affair. It worked for me.
Of course.
