Observation Posts: Prince George--the real story

 Text and photos by George Molé

Now that all the fuss about the royal baby's name has died down a bit, I believe I'm at liberty to reveal the real story.  You haven't seen this on Page Six or in Cindy Adams' column--it's a Finto File exclusive.

One day in the fall of last year, Her Highness the Duchess, aka Kate, had left a charity ball in Manhattan, and was on her way to a polo match in Connecticut, when her limousine broke down in the Bronx.  Sort of like in The Bonfire of the Vanities, except they didn't hit anyone.  Of course, seeing a motorist in distress, I stopped to offer my assistance.  After a bit of introductory conversation - which proceeded swimmingly, I might add - Her Highness most graciously suggested that while we were waiting for AAA to come to fix the limo, we might take in one of those Yankee baseball games she had heard about.

I daresay Her Highness was rather uptight at the beginning, but after a few Budweisers she loosened right up.  "Get yourself some bloody spectacles, you bloody wanker," she screamed at the umpire.  Then she turned a bit pensive.  "It's most unfortunate about all that unpleasantness between you colonies and us, regarding the tea and so forth," she mused.  "I wish there were something I could do, even though it is a couple of centuries later, to bring my people and your people closer together."

"Well..." I replied.  One thing led to another.  And now a baby named George has been born.  I just wish she'd stop calling me every day to buy her more damn Pampers.