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Britain's Prince Harry watches track cycling during the 2012 Summer Olympics, in this file photo dated Thursday, Aug. 2, 2012, in London. Nude photographs of Prince Harry in a Las Vegas, USA, hotel room are published on the Internet Wednesday Aug. 22, 2012, and now security experts are wondering whether the Scotland Yard officers who are assigned to keep the 27-year-old royal safe from harm, might have done a better job of keeping him out of trouble. The photos available on the Internet and not taken by Photographers' long lenses but are up close and personal. (Matt Rourke/AP)
Britain's Prince Harry watches track cycling during the 2012 Summer Olympics, in this file photo dated Thursday, Aug. 2, 2012, in London. Nude photographs of Prince Harry in a Las Vegas, USA, hotel room are published on the Internet Wednesday Aug. 22, 2012, and now security experts are wondering whether the Scotland Yard officers who are assigned to keep the 27-year-old royal safe from harm, might have done a better job of keeping him out of trouble. The photos available on the Internet and not taken by Photographers' long lenses but are up close and personal. (Matt Rourke/AP)

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A bad boy’s bare bum? It’s a start Add to ...

Britain’s most famous Nazi-costume enthusiast finds himself involved in one of the more boring possible royal scandals. By now, you’ve heard the story: Prince Harry and his entourage were partying at the fancy Encore Wynn hotel in Las Vegas. They picked up a few attractive girls and brought them up to their hotel room.

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In a fit of drunken ecstasy, the group decided to engage in strip billiards, a game at which Harry evidently sucks, as he ended up in the nude, hiding his dangly parts behind (generously) cupped hands. One of the interlopers snapped blurry photos of his perfect skin and taut, Pippa Middleton-esque butt. The gossip website TMZ published them. And then Friday, going against the British Press Complaints Commission code of practice, so did London’s The Sun.

There was outrage and mockery. In a Guardian blog post, writer Emma Gilbey Keller called for Haz to be stripped of his royal title. “There he is in VEGAS, NAKED, playing STRIP BILLIARDS,” she writes. “Really, if that isn’t winning the trifecta, I don’t know what is.” (I don’t know either, but maybe it’s “Nazi, costume, party.”) The Sun put it more succinctly: “Heir it is.”

The Prince allegedly has flown back to London to be admonished by various royal officials and probably his father, where we can only pray the conversation was something like:

Charles: Son, this behaviour is unbecoming of our family. You have brought shame on our house.

Harry: On the scale of 1, which is, say, slipping on a banana peel, to 10, which is being caught fantasizing out loud about living deep inside a woman’s body as a feminine-hygiene product, where does this rank?

Charles: Sorry?

William (rushing in): Guys, I just saved this baby tiger at the peril of my own life. He was drowning in a swamp. Can we keep him? When he grows to be big, I will take care of him because I am a very good boy and a very brave boy.

Charles/Harry: Shut up, William! I suppose I understand the fuss, but frankly, I think we should be relieved that things are back to normal. Am I the only one who was sort of creeped out by the year-long streak of Harry’s excellent behaviour and successful image rehabilitation?

Watching the bad-boy Prince avoid Benny Hill-ing his way into a piece of sub-royal cleavage at his brother’s wedding – or seeing him all obedient, representing the Queen at the Olympic-closing ceremonies – was like watching a kid ride around the rim of a dormant volcano on a BMX, like replacing your baby’s rattle with a gun.

We are once again free to dream up all the entitled monkeyshines Harry will get up to in the future. Via his sweet bare can, our collective imagination has been offered a capacity for limitless wonder.

William certainly can’t be trusted to “bring da noize” – the only remotely interesting piece of recent news about him came one day after Harry was nude-photographed. He was tooling around in his Sea King helicopter, fully clothed, and happened to rescue a Canadian hiker with a broken leg. Where’s my damning Huffington Post gallery of the evolution of William’s bald spot? Nowhere, that’s where.

His brother notwithstanding, Harry does have big shoes to fill. His own jackboots, for example, and the mouth of Texas businessman John Bryan (which is where the disgraced Duchess Sarah Ferguson kept her feet).

Luckily, there’s no chance for a wedding in his future, which means that he can avoid the mind-numbingly dreary scandals of other royals: divorces, affairs with commoners, Tampax dirty talk and illegitimate children. Kate Middleton’s weird uncle Gary was caught up in a cocaine-and-prostitutes thingie in 2009, so that’s out.

But there’s plenty of real estate to be considered, and a lot of inspiration to be taken from the site of Harry’s nude transgression. Underage hookers, sex acts involving an animal, an orgy involving both. If we want to move away from the lewd and more into the realm of the dramatic, there is embezzlement, gun running, arson, maiming and, of course, vehicular homicide.

I would gladly trade in my own life to be mowed down by a beautiful custom Lamborghini Gallardo driven by the rogue Prince. These days, it is the only true way to achieve immortality.

Earth’s core is the limit for the disgraces and humiliations that Harry is capable of accessing. And whatever he comes up with next will surely be a scandal fit for a king. Or, rather, for a boy who never will be.

 

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