Tom and Mick are walking the greyhounds. They have heard about the recent paparazzi chase in New York.
I tell you, Tom. They went after his mother and now they’re after him,
Do ya know… I never thought I’d see the day. They killed her. Now, for one minute don’t think I mind too much about that Harry fella, but they killed her stone dead, they did.
I remember it well when the news came in from Paris. We had a sick cow that same morning.
Will we ever forget her, Mick? She was our only hope to knock over the whole blasted royal monarchy thing. She had the common touch.
I think the little fella wants it both ways. Out and in, no crown but still the security team. Why don’t he give back the prince title? Maybe pretending to be in touch but it’s showing a mile off that he’s not like his mother
We had a word for fellas like that… He’s a right Spare, that’s what he is, Mick.
The Three Hairs 