Turning Shit into Gold since 2006
Mystery births, gypsy cousin weddings, Kate and her obnoxious eight, and here comes an obese beauty queen. There is only one network to thank for such informative and ground- breaking programing. TLC, which oddly enough stands for The Learning Channel. To my shameful delight Secret Princes can now be added to this network’s impressive line up.
The premise of the show is simple; two lords and two princes, whose names are not worth mentioning, move into a modest home together with intentions of finding an American bride while living in a famous southern city. What better place for these noble wife seekers to shack up in than the secret prince capital of the world, Atlanta, Georgia. Beware single women of England, Spain, and India, because us gals are all dolled up and prepared to take your royals off the marriage market with our loose morals and our even looser vaginas. USA! USA! USA!
Before they can begin their whole-hearted search for the perfect princess the men must first choose their rooms. With only three bathrooms and four contestants occupying the house a war on privacy is waged in order to establish dominance among the nations. Is this what our royals have been reduced to? Looks like Spain and India will be sharing a sink for the next two months. Fighting over Quilted Northern is the new Battle of Waterloo!
Once differences were elegantly put aside it was time to tie the ascots tight and polish the inherited cufflinks. It was time to hit the town. Looking like a pack of preps waltzing into a biker bar, the four Blue bloods approached the local yokel tavern with all the gusto of a well off man shopping for a stylish new top hat. Swift as a sheriff at a showdown, the gentlemen resolved to downgrade their wardrobes and downsize their bank accounts to better fit in to the Atlanta social scene. After a failed attempt to convince a convenient store clerk that they were overseas paper salesmen in the area for a conference the princes devised a plan to get a ‘real job’ in order to hide their secret identities.
With one taxing catering shift under their jewel incrusted Polo belts and it was time for a sexy evening group activity…speed dating…in Atlanta, GA…at a Logan’s Roadhouse. In two unattractive, uneventful rounds of table hoping women and the royal egos were operating at full stream ahead. Creepy winking, life goal grilling, and sheltered shyness prevailed, leaving many of the women unaffected by the prince’s seventeenth century charm.
The second episode preview promises a fair amount of betrayal mixed with a hint of yacht leisure and old fashioned off shore shenanigans. If I am lucky I will be able to see this visual monstrosity to its red carpet ending, bored the whole way through, yet utterly unable to look away from the sad state of the world’s young royals.