My top six shags, by King Charles III

TO humanise his image in the week of his coronation, King Charles has released details of his best six shags ever. Here he respectfully reveals how they were gagging for it.

Susan George

Young cineastes may not recall Susan as an actress, but I assure you she was smoking hot in Straw Dogs. We could never marry, as she was a fallen woman who had known carnal pleasure, but that made for a marvellously abandoned affair. Her halter top from Dirty Mary, Crazy Larry remains in the Royal Collection.

Jane Ward

I can assure the British people that I have rarely made love in bushes, given my respect for the natural world and hearing my friends the plants begging me to stop. Sadly the girl I met at a polo match who dragged me off to those selfsame bushes went on to tell everybody about it. Yes, it was wonderful, Jane, but discretion?

Camilla Shand

True love, as my great-great-great-grandmother Queen Victoria said, comes from the regal loins, and from the moment we met my cock was thunderstruck. How many other copulations have sparked a constitutional crisis? And are still thrillingly going on decades later? My sword makes knights, it makes earls and it has made her a Queen.

Lady Sarah McCorquodale

Went like the absolute clappers, to quote a Guardsman I dismissed for coarse language. When she was named a master of the Belvoir Hunt in later life I murmured how apposite the title was. Sadly relations were cordial by then as she had palmed one off on her younger sister and it had not gone well.

Samantha Fox

I like to keep the tradition of droit de seigneur alive, so I made use of the powers granted to me when I opened the Sun newspaper and said to an aide ‘That one.’ She was summoned to the palace and, though a commoner, performed admirably. I believe she is now of the Sapphic persuasion, because what man could follow that?

Katy Perry

Why else would an American singer have been named ambassador to the British Asian Trust if she were not a Kingly conquest? Though I was a mere Prince when our affair began I would not be refused. Astonishingly filthy. She performs at my Coronation Concert on Sunday and thereafter in my chambers. Orlando and the Queen are cool with it.

Sign up now to get
The Daily Mash
free Headlines email – every weekday

Six bastards with the audacity to knock on your door unexpectedly

YOUR front door isn’t for people to come knocking on, but apparently these bastards didn’t get the memo.


Offering only items you don’t need such as dusters and double-glazing, door-to-door sales twats live in hope of making some commission so they can eat. However, you can guarantee their goods are horribly overpriced and it’s not your responsibility to feed them. So you apologise, close the door and feel bad, then ecstatically happy because your afternoon isn’t being ruined by having a patch of carpet shampooed while you sign a rip-off credit agreement.

Political canvassers

When a party gets desperate before an election they go through the charade of converting voters when they’re just there to tell their lazy supporters to vote even if it’s raining. It’s actually a fun opportunity to hassle local councillors over every shitty policy Suella Braverman has cooked up, but they always show up when you’re busy, at which point the issues that most concern this voter are finishing your dinner and getting the kids to shut the f**k up.


After peeking through the window and realising the knock is from a neighbour, worse still one you’re not even a nodding acquaintance of, your panicked brain races through reasons why they have invaded your territory. Could it be a dispute? Something you did in his bushes coming home from the pub? You’ve never liked the look of the creepy bastard, so you steel yourself for an argument and open the door. Then he just cheerfully gives you a package he’s looked after for you. You thank him, close the door and rack your brains for a reason to still not like him.

Cult callers

You didn’t realise your eternal salvation was in jeopardy until the acolytes from a religious cult came banging on the door. They always come in pairs – presumably to share the burden of being told to f**k off 50 times an evening – radiating spiritual sunshine and offering to save your soul with a handy booklet that’s a gentle introduction to becoming a brainwashed automaton who gives them all your money. But there might be a nice recipe for cookies in there, so it’s not all doom and gloom and eternal agony.

Friends and family

You love them dearly, allegedly, but not when they knock unannounced. In the age of the internet and mobile phones there’s just no reason to disturb people sat in their grubby sleepwear, munching chocolate while watching bollocks for thick teenagers on Channel 4. Deter these visitors in future by keeping them on the doorstep while your partner rushes round disguising the slobbery. A cup of tea will just encourage them to stay, so don’t offer them one until the ‘hints’ get annoyingly unsubtle, eg. ‘GOSH! I HAVEN’T HAD A CUPPA YET TODAY.’


There’s nothing so inconsiderate as a 4am visit from heavily armed tactical police officers. They never knock, just rudely smash the door in with their special battering ram, not even leaving you time to put on your trackie bottoms and jump out of a back window. Admittedly the visits aren’t always completely unexpected, but they never take their shoes off. They should at least give you time to swallow a dangerous amount of cocaine, but it seems politeness is a thing of the past these days.