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FROM THE TOTALLY BITCHIN' ROCKSTAR, WING-ADORNED DESK OF PROFESSOR CHARLIE SHEEN, M.D. WHILE ALSO ON THE BACK OF A FIRE-BREATHING BENGAL TIGER. 

 
 

Dearest Harry, Prince of Wales, 

Thank you very much for your interest in taking siege upon the interests of people and the pages of the tabloids for a little while, but unfortunately due to the overwhelming amount of imbibed young or middle-aged trashy celebrities we're examining on a daily basis we at the League of General Debauchery and Hijinks are unable to offer you any tiger blood or Adonis DNA at this time. 

Quite honestly, one has to admire your royal, winning backstory and commitment to general debauchery and hijinks of a controversial nature so we encourage you to reapply in six months' time. We'll keep an open mind when next hearing about your latest run-in with the law or public drug use or misguided costume choice. Keep your chin up, because you're third in line to the throne of the third most powerful country in the world. Right after America and Westeros from "Game of Thrones". That has a TON of potential to spiral into an epic, flaming meltdown or beget a Kardashian-esque reality spin-off. At the tender age of 27 you've already shown more promise than other less powerful, less fun, less Googled brothers like Emilio Estevez and Jeb Bush ever have. 

If I could personally offer some constructive feedback, I would just say go bigger and go local-er. It's going to take a while to break into the other side of the pond, most people in America still equate the term "Prince" with some fruity singer. I know that you're a bad boy, but being an English prince is still very much going to sell a different image. Sure, you were caught naked in a Vegas hotel room playing strip billiards with a faceless blonde, but we've all been there, done that, many times and the moon over, my man. I know you have it in you to do something more creatively offensive and more shameful to the royal kingdom. Most people in America won't be on board with the term "billiards" either, it's very 1940s. Let's call it "pool" for future reference. Speaking of pools, the kind with water in them, doing something like throwing a TV out your window into one could potentially help catapult you into the spotlight. While there may have been a FEW naked faceless blondes in your hotel room, you were still about a dozen too short by my bitchin' standards. Did you know services exist where you can pay women to come to your hotel room? I imagine as a Prince you must make a pretty penny and I encourage you to look into this some more. I have some numbers you could call which I will send along with my personal butler (Emilio) momentarily. 

Between you, me, the lamppost, and the fist indentation within said lamppost, you'd already be in the League if I had my way. It's more of a clerical waiting game than anything. Archbishop Gary Busey needs to officially approve all applicants with his bloodied thumbprint, and this week he's on vacation visiting his old college friend the Curiosity Mars Rover. We'll keep your records on file just in case. Please ask Pippa if she has any interest in signing up for our Goddess internship. Keep it real, H-Wizzle.

By the power of Grayskull, your pal, 

Charlie Sheen. 

P.S. You do know you're a ginger, right? I would suggest maybe shaving that head and getting a back tattoo of a dragon arm-wrestling a robot. Could be fun. 

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