by 
Her Majesty now has to shop at Lidl because travel restrictions have led to a massive drop in her revenues.
The Queen is estimated to have lost approximately £20m due to the coronavirus’ devastation of the tourist trade, and desperate times call for desperate measures.
“This must be the place,” said Her Majesty as she pulled into the car park of the Penge branch of Lidl in South London. She turned to Andrew in the back seat. “Don’t you dare go telling your nephew and that slut Meghan about this you little shit!”
Leaving her son sulking in the car because he thought shopping was ‘boring’, Elizabeth II opened the window slightly due to her son’s inability to regulate his own body heat. Then she went off to join the queue that was snaking around the car park.
“And what do you do?” she asked each person in the line. Weirdly, they all flinched and jumped back as she approached.
When she finally reached the entrance she struggled to pull a trolley free.
One of the other customers held up a little gold coin with her face on and explained that she needed to use something called a ‘pound.’ Interesting…
The Queen lowered her face to the coin slot. “It’s me!” she shouted. But nothing happened, not even when she turned her head to show her profile. To keep the queue moving, the attendant put one of his own coins in and sent her on her way.
Things didn’t get easier inside the store.
“What the fuck are Rice Snaps?” asked her Majesty as she desperately searched for her usual brand of cereal.
She strolled past the toilet roll aisle, baffled as to what people did that would necessitate the use of such small sheets of paper. Then she remembered the childhood stories about the proletariat doing things called ‘poos’…
At the checkout, her shopping piled up faster than the Duke of Edinburgh’s Land Rovers.
“I assume you have people who deal with this sort of thing?” she asked, gesturing towards the eggs which had flown off the conveyor belt and smashed all over the floor.
“Would you like to buy a bag of life for 10p?” asked the assistant.
“Fuck off, I’m not made of money!” said Her Majesty, wedging a single tin of spam into her handbag and leaving the shop.
When she got back to the car she was hit by an overwhelming stench of piss.
“Mummy, it’s happened again,” sobbed Andrew.
For fuck’s sake.
