Downtrodden vagrants all over the UK have breathed a collective sigh of relief to hear that one of their beloved overlords is still alive after rumours of his death spread like wildfire.
“Thank goodness he’s all right,” said one emaciated wretch who was far too insignificant to be named. “The other night as I lay in the gutter pulling some newspapers over me in a futile attempt to keep warm, I saw the headlines that he might be dead. I started praying that it was untrue. Surely, I thought, god wouldn’t be so cruel as to take such a noble man and leave scum like me still alive.”
One bedraggled woman spoke of her anguish upon hearing the dreadful rumours.
“I was squatting behind a skip to relieve myself because I haven’t got any money to access public toilets when I overheard someone on a mobile talking about how the Queen had called a meeting because her husband was dying. I was beside myself with grief and guilt. Our poor prince was lying on his antique four-poster deathbed and here I was wiping myself with an old sock and shooing off rats as though it was just another ordinary day.”
Countless other worthless pieces of sub-human filth who don’t contribute to the Royal Family’s divine right to obscene wealth and luxury shared similar stories. One starving immigrant was so overcome with emotion upon hearing that Philip was still alive that he abandoned his attempt to retrieve the half-eaten remains of a dead cat from a storm-drain and just lay in a ditch and cried.
When Prince Philip does inevitably pass, Britain’s homeless have vowed to beg outside Tube stations until they’ve raised enough money to buy flowers to lay at the gates of Buckingham Palace.