Frankly, other than being surprised at some of the revelations regarding Alexandra, Countess of Frederiksborg, I can hardly call anything in this book shocking. That this stuff is not published in DK because of respect to the Crypt Keeper, her fat husband, Henrik, the near-imbecilic lazy ass Crown Prince, happy drunky Jokke, and the rest of the gang, is one thing, but come on. We kind of figured out LONG AGO that Frederik is fucked up in the head and can't talk in public without having a major meltdown. We know Margrethe isn't the warmest of mothers, we know Henrik is a drama queen, we know Jokke has bad teeth and we definitely know that Mary is a useless piece of designer-clad garbage.
What Trine has done is say what no one dares to say outside of a few message boards. What Trine has done is say what many say in whispers, and has long been rumored. And frankly, I think she didn't go further in order to keep her book marketable, because had she gone as far as she could have gone, Mary would be reaching for the pills and Freddy would be right behind Captain Jack Sparrow sailing away forever, and Danes would be overtaken by their undeserved loyalty to this bunch of asshats and would have completely rejected the book.
When was the last time Frederik looked THIS confident, secure, and proud? Not in the last few years, people, that's for sure. Too bad that Margrethe pretty much fucked over her sons by demanding foreign brides, because next to Miz Mary, Freddles ain't never gonna look as radiant as he did with Katja. He doesn't even have to look at her to project happiness.
Compare that with Mary desperately grabbing his hand in the balcony appearance when he turned 40. He starts laughing nervously, that stupid laugh that begs to be smacked off his face, while Mary grits her teeth and attempts to appear like a happy family, while ignoring her massively un-cute children.
We already knew that Ole Henriksen had been dropped like a hot potato once he blabbed about taking care of Mary's skin, even though yapping about her perfectly groomed eyebrows and her freshly shampooed hair - must have been the only time she washed her hair because it always looks oily - was about as sugary as you can get. How did we know? Because she dropped her friend Beatrice Tarnawski, who introduced her to Frederik. Mary is a cold, calculating, callow cow of a woman, and if Trine thinks she is sparing any thoughts to saving the fricking Danish Monarchy, she's delusional. Mary has only thoughts for herself, for posing the right way, for wearing a shitload of makeup and collecting Chanel handbags, for becoming the celebrity she always dreamed in her fat old Hobart days, when she posed with Sarah O'Hare and chased z-list fame as much as she could.
Trine is giving Mary way too much credit here. How on earth can Mary undo decades of damage done to Frederik if she doesn't give a shit about him, other than making sure he doesn't take the credit cards away. She is as shallow as dog spit and smells just as bad, given her aversion to antiperspirant. Besides, Trine, don't you know the first rule of becoming a happier person? No one can do it but yourself. People with far worse tribulations than coddled, pissy Frederik have made a happy, healthy life for themselves. If this lazy, useless, stammering 40-year-old man who will only be king because he emerged out of the right womb and has done NOTHING to earn any of his pretty little medals, lifestyle, salary, celebrity, or anything he enjoys, can't stop whining about mummy not giving him enough hugs and grow a fucking pair, no ex-chubbette, fake-accented bitch is going to do it for him.
