It's Official: Euroman Freddles is Happier Without His Wife Thinggie Around. And Microphones, Too, Evidently.

Sportif!

Freddles is featured in the magazine Euroman (!) with some new photos and an article by Danish journalist Anne Sofie Kragh who was in the press pool that accompanied Fred to Mozambique last year. What a little pixie our Freddles is! Nothing but skin and bones at this point, looking dead-eyed and belittled. Proof of what we've all known for years: Fred is crippled by the cruel, demanding, controlling, narcissist Mary Donaldson, Countess of Monpezat and Sandy Bay. Someone get these two a divorce lawyer before Yrma squeezes the Miracle Triplets into her snatch from the waiting turkey baster in Yehudi's fertility lab!

Article: Euroman Magazine

Crown Prince Frederik: Secessionist King

There are at least two versions of the crown prince. Most people know only the official one. The one, who says intricate, almost unintelligible sentences on television. Then there is Frederik. It is he who causes people to relax in his company and thrive on all that is informal. Anne Sofie Kragh has met with both versions and accounts in the new issue of Euroman a portrait of Denmark's future king.

It was the evening where everything was going well for the crown prince. It was May 2011, and he was on his first tour with the Danish Red Cross in Mozambique. After dinner in the primitive camp there were campfires in the nearby village, and everyone sat around the big fire and waited for the Danish crown prince. The chief was there too. He was ready in a beige dress uniform with buttons and stripes of gold. There was music playing, and the Crown Prince was invited up to dance.

He was neither inhibited or went crazy when he danced. He was mostly just happy. After the dance it was time to hear the crown prince's speech to the village. It was not a long or sophisticated speech, but it was his own story, and maybe that was why it worked. When he told us he had four children and two of them were twins, the whole village broke into a cheering roar. When he told us that he had traveled by dogsled in Greenland, and about how hard it is to get food when it is so cold, there was shouting: "Come and live with us."

Afterwards, we were in a smaller cluster and drinking beer. Before the trip, the court had instructed us in how we should appeal to the Crown Prince: It is "De" [ed: you, formal], unless he himself says "du" first, and it appeals to him, His Royal Highness. But the Crown Prince himself had been the least solemn of all. We had a laugh about his tribal dance and much more, and he was quick on the trigger. Funny and sarcastic. Unprejudiced and curious. Chummy and direct.

But above all, it was surprisingly uncomplicated to be in his company, without his ever felt it necessary to blunting itself. The next morning we were then at the table in a tent camp. The Crown Prince had to give his first interview on the trip, and the amended interview manifested everything. It was as if the crown prince was turned off or something, because the tape recorder was turned on.