Mooselini is on her way to make sweet, sweet, photo ops with the UK’s fossilized remains from the ’80s, Lady Thatcher, who is the last known fascist to shake Saint Ronnie’s Dick, the sacred relic of the GOP.
We assume that the Wassila Chillbilly is onto some new grift, and her mark must be senile. Someone should tell Lizzy to keep the crown jewels locked up. And the Princes, too, if Bristol is along.
Of course Pipette will try to sneak into Harvey Nic’s for free couture, and little Algorythm (the likeable Palin) will probably be lost in Heathrow’s baggage claim.
(The UK Press is already having a field day with this.)