by REBECCA SPARROW
What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.
Unless you’re Prince Harry. And you happen to be playing Strip Poker. And you’re really, really bad at it.
And so it is that the-Prince-I’d-most-want-to-be-stuck-on-a-desert-island-with has been snapped with his pants down.
And with his shirt off. Aaaaand his willy out. In a Vegas penthouse.
TMZ are all over it. Naturally. They report:
Prince Harry put the crown jewels on display in Vegas this weekend … getting BARE ASS NAKED during a game of strip billiards with a room full of friends in his VIP suite. It all went down Friday night during a raging party in a high rollers hotel suite.
We’re told Harry, along with a large entourage, went down to the hotel bar and met a bunch of hot chicks … and invited them up to his VIP suite.
Once in the room, things got WILD … with the group playing a game of strip pool that quickly escalated into full-on royal nudity.
Some of the partiers snapped photos of the madness. In one photo, a fully nude Harry cups his genitals while a seemingly topless woman stands behind him.
In another photo, a naked Harry is bear-hugging a woman who appears to be completely naked as well.
No word on who the women are … or if they got Harry’s phone number.
A rep for the Royal Family tells us, “We have no comment to make on the photos at this time.”
Oh, Hazza. I just like you more and more. And look, we’ve all been there haven’t we? Okay, maybe not naked in Vegas bear-hugging a naked girl when our friend snapped a photo but still most of us have at least one ’embarrassing naked story’.
In 2010, we were living in a rental house in Brisbane. A house that had a narrow rectangular glass window running lengthways next to the front door. You with me? So, one morning I’m in the shower and I suddenly realise that I’d left my razor in my toiletry bag (which was in the loungeroom).
So I walk through the house naked – as you do when it’s YOUR HOUSE – and realise there is a delivery driver at the front door. And I realise this just as he looks up and sees me. Nekid. He stared at me. I stared at him. And then he ran away silently screaming something probably a bit like “MY EYES ARE BLEEDING!”.
And I calmly went back, finished my shower, got dressed. And then ate my body weight in Double Chocolate Chip ice-cream.
So that was awkward. Although not as awkward as the fact that he was our local courier … so I saw him again two days later. And a week after that. And pretty much every week FOR THE REST OF THE YEAR. I took to opening our front door wearing a wig and doing a French accent.