Original subtitles

The film you are about to see

was shot in its entirety using hidden cameras.

Everybody who appears on screen

contributed their spontaneity to the making of the film

between July 2014 and February 2015.

Little princess,

everybody's here for you

And anybody who's not

will soon get the sack

Me aged 3 months

My nanny

Like it, Camilla?

Thumbs down for the badger.

Way too tacky.

Generally, she goes for

pricey articles. The sales give her reflux.

She knows what she likes.

Me aged 5

You have any that stay puppies?

You know, grown up, it's ugly!

I'll have to have it put down.

Mummy!

These things are useless. Buy me a servant instead.

Come on, quickly.

Me aged 12

- Well? - What's this fabric?

You have it in mink?

I can't wear this.

That's a camel toe. Absolutely!

You obviously never had a reputation to keep up.

Me aged 18

Yes, excuse me,

I see my beauty and aura distracting people.

So it's only ethical of me

to refuse to study here.

Quite clearly, with my personality,

I'm bound to succeed.

Don't try to dissuade me. I have a life to live.

Mr Taxman, how can you

sleep at night demanding money we've spent?

I can't stop buying high heels

to pay for you to lay roads in the sticks.

Your roads are no use to me in the provinces.

Same day travel.

Same day travel!

How come you don't understand my request?

Fuck it!

Me 2 weeks ago

Eiffel Tower, Champs-Elysées...

That is so corny.

It's outdated.

And it's not good for me.

Let's go, fatties.

Get a move on!

Move, shithead!

We'll have dinner here.

So tacky, Louboutin!

You guys must love them.

Here, Saint Laurent!

Has my jacket in an 8 arrived?

I'm working here!

Fascist!

Move!

- You met each other on internet? - Yes.

Yes, you're not a great fit.

I need you to do the blinker.

Blinker, falafels!

I'm not an actual tour guide.

THE PARISIAN BITCH PRINCESS OF HEARTS

Blinker, spring rolls.

Look!

See that building?

On your left.

Here.

Like a cocktail sausage.

Hello?

Hi, Albert.

Everything's going just fine.

My customers are delighted.

We just pulled over by the Louvre.

The spring rolls are snapping photos of the Pyramid.

Everybody's happy.

What?

I see,

you buy up old bangers and instead of investing

in AC, you fit them out with GPS trackers.

All right!

And he's a big fat jerk!

I have my customers' full support. You're taking a huge risk.

This is insane. Hold on, Albert, let me speak...

In any case, if you fire me,

I resign. For good.

Yeah, sure.

Stupid fat jerk!

You okay, madam?

No, I'm not okay.

I need to take stock. My life's all off.

Nobody puts Baby in a corner.

ELYSEE PALACE

Morning, madam.

- Move on, please. - I need a word with François.

No intercom to "President Normal"?

I want to know what he offers people who reject his rotten "normal life".

Sorry, madam, he's not in.

Just as I thought. He's doing no work either.

I can't stand it. Instagram really gets me down.

When you see how other people live!

Ivanka Trump is in the Bahamas.

Paris Hilton's in St. Barts.

Kim Kardashian's fat ass is on the front row at a fashion show.

Slacker!

Nicole Richie's getting her hair done.

So nobody's working, except me.

Enough! This has to stop.

I can't!

What? You want the same for summer?

The cheek!

I've come to see you for legal advice

because I want the life I deserve, a life without work.

The life of ordinary humans isn't enough for me.

Right...

What I need is...

servants,

photogenic friends...

and so much money that

the gossip columns always refer to me

as a DJ, It girl,

when I'm at the hairdresser's.

It kept me awake all night. The sole solution

that I can see

is to become an heiress and inherit from my mother.

- While she's alive. - Exactly.

Apparently, Mummy hasn't passed away.

No.

- I see. - In fact, I'd like

access to her money without her prior agreement.

How, without her agreement?

That's why I came to you.

For a solution.

- You may compel her only if in need. - I am in need.

Inheriting from a living person is complicated.

You are so narrow-minded

in your profession.

You always latch onto tiny details.

It's called the law.

So be creative.

The law is ill suited to your case.

If I give up work, since your petty laws

stop me inheriting, but I want to live

in comfort. What can I do?

Mummy can easily

decide in her lifetime

to transfer a substantial part of her estate, or all of it...

The ceiling is ridiculously low!

Being an heiress means living like Paris Hilton,

not a B&B owner's daughter.

You single out a girl, more specifically Paris Hilton,

who lives off her image, sells her life.

Totally.

I need a starting point to sell my life. Exactly.

Find a famous person and move in their sphere.

You mean, marry someone very rich.

Or shack up with someone who's a "celebrity".

That attracts the magazines...

Celebrity wife.

I'd like two boxes of Prozac and one box of Xanax, please.

- You have a prescription? - It's for my husband.

He's a celebrity. It's awful.

I need a prescription, you know.

Without the records.

Never mind, you'll have his suicide attempt on your conscience.

No, terrible idea. Celebrity wife is not an option.

Marry a manic-depressive with bad breath to score a caption like,

Johnny Depp and "a friend".

- A footballer maybe? - A WAG?

Hi there.

I need, like, a deodorant

that's so extremely powerful

it can eliminate body odour

and also be used to purify a very, very big mansion.

All right.

For underarm use and for the mansion.

What is it? Hipster shit that protects the ozone layer?

Screw the ozone layer!

It smells great.

All I care about is powerful.

My husband trains 14 hours a day.

He exudes sweat. It encrusts the Versace curtains.

It's killing me!

No, bad idea, footballer.

Awful idea.

Girls who like football are all ugly.

In that case, someone from the business world.

- Perhaps... - A banker?

Why not? Especially if he owns the bank.

I'm looking for a laxative that is extremely powerful.

It's for my husband, a financial fat cat.

I don't want anything

like old wives' stuff, prunes or figs.

Perhaps there's a blockage, so start with a Microlax enema.

No, the thing is, he's in prison.

He can't relax his anus, bizarrely.

Yes.

The best thing, like I said, is to put a Microlax...

in case of a blockage

and take two tablets every evening.

He's uglier and uglier. It's horrifying.

He's in for long?

Probably, yes.

How awful!

I only have ?11.

We take cards.

My accounts are frozen. No withdrawals.

I'll remove an item.

- Which item? - Microlax.

It'll work even so or he'll die in his poo?

Yes, but no. That's not...

Not a good idea, winding up with a convict like Madoff.

Or a geek who goes trekking in Jesus sandals,

like Kerviel.

Frankly, don't beat yourself up. We've made progress.

You weren't super brilliant...

Too kind.

But you opened my eyes to the fact

that I don't want a normal life with extras,

I aspire to a great destiny.

I just saw the notary.

I need to think, so I'll walk.

You take these, there are no bins anywhere.

I've been waiting an hour.

I've been waiting an hour!

Be grateful I told you it was me.

- Sit there. - My feet are killing me.

Just a quick pause.

There's a stool underneath.

Madam!

Excuse me, there's a stool underneath.

There's a stool underneath.

What a strange place!

You're in a pharmacy.

Commoners constantly suffer from gastric problems and angina?

How can I help you?

I see how tragic it is to be ordinary.

Yes!

Thank you, Mr Newsagent!

Maria, I can hear the TV. Open up!

You're still sulking over the cigarette butts?

I need to marry a prince, but which one?

You're a royal expert! You're a concierge!

Slide an old Hello or Gala under the door!

You can do that at least!

Hello?

Reality TV has killed your profession.

Kad!

Can I get a quick photo?

- Kad! - A photo, please.

- Hey, kids. - Thanks.

You're amazing, dude! See you!

Duke de Bern!

Open the window! Just one question.

If you were to marry a prince, who would you choose?

If I were you, I'd marry Prince Harry of England.

Ginger nut?

- That was quick. You've tried? - To marry him?

Keep calm!

Hands off, Duke de Bern. He's mine!

Drive. I don't know where I'm headed.

I'll totally improve his bloodline.

Stop!

That's my mother-in-law.

I need to talk to her.

- Where's your mother-in-law? - Just back there.

I'll go and see her.

LADY DI MEMORIAL

"Liberty's flame offered to the people of France by donors..."

Be my guest, have a great day too!

Move out the way.

I'm talking to Diana.

Sure, you are.

- I need some quiet. - Honestly!

Dear Diana,

you want me to marry Harry.

Obviously, he won't find better.

But I'm not doing all the work.

First of all,

you clear the ground ahead. No rivals.

Secondly, do something about the damp in England.

It makes my hair unmanageable, and that's a no-no.

Finally, please note that I will never,

never ever do charity.

Okay, I'll keep you posted.

No, one last thing. If you could make sure

Harry keeps his hair. Ginger's bad enough but bald,

like William, is unbearable.

No more promenades down by the canal

No more postcards, no more Café Royal

I'm through with Paris

My mind's made up, I'm outta here

No more grey skies, no more dull mornings

They say that in London every day is spring

Over there, Paris, c'est la vie en rose

What do you bet, Paris, that I'm gone

That I'm changing

my capital...

- Hello. Camilla, right? - That's right.

I'm ready to get in your taxi. You may open the door.

You usually take Executive Cabs?

Naturally. Isn't it obvious?

- Nobody told me. - What's the earpiece for then?

My luggage.

- You have luggage? - Yes.

- Where? - Outside my front door.

Fifth floor, without a lift.

Nobody pulled that one before.

Pulled what?

That.

London, here I come.

Sorry, this deck is closed to passengers.

No, madam.

I've seen Titanic too.

We know what happens to the poor below decks.

I refuse to finish the crossing on a wardrobe door.

Definitely not in this outfit.

Be so kind as to inform the captain

he may salute me now.

You won't be so uppity when the taxman gets you.

What's so funny?

... in my prince's garden?

Ridiculous!

I know but I don't care.

KENSINGTON PALACE

Prince Harry's current residence

That's forbidden!

Net curtains are for concierges.

I don't know, frosted glass!

Load-bearing?

It can come out?

Excellent ceiling height.

Paint out the two fat ladies.

Here, we could install a lovely toilet.

It needs some work doing.

Excuse me, there is Japanese tourists and a ramp for the disabled.

I was told Prince Henri lives here,

but it's obviously a museum.

There's nobody to carry my suitcase?

Henri!

Come here and open the door, concierge!

Run to tell Mummy!

Tale-telling limpdick!

I hope that's Harry you're calling.

His future wife, not his ugly stepmother.

Open the window, it reeks of kebabs.

CHARING CROSS POLICE STATION

Move, Pete Doherty, that's my corner.

You'll regret the destruction of my tights.

I'm the Queen of England

and I shit on your face

Uptight bitch!

I shit on your face

Because the world works that way

Doorman! Handle it, please!

You're in my seat.

Innkeeper!

Give me a perfect room.

So...

Carpet without pubes.

They can take away the bedspread before I come in.

It's yuck, yuck, yuck!

I won't wash myself with washing-up liquid.

I have so much to do.

Can you have the celebrity magazines brought up?

UGLY

GROSS

If I don't ring for you, don't come disturbing me.

BOOTCAMP

Military fitness workout

DRILL SERGEANT Sports coach

This is the fat arse regiment.

Who dress up for the tourists?

A regiment of losers, right?

I don't think so.

A FEW YEARS EARLIER PAINTBALL 2000, NEAR PARIS

What matters is my security.

I'm here today thanks to other soldiers,

who dropped like dung flies to protect me.

Fatties up front

and anyone who can whisk up a salad out of nothing, behind.

Here we go!

Say, "Yes, princess!"

If I get splatted, I'll brand your arses!

Icky!

A bearer here!

Great! I may make you my sergeant.

What an idiot! Man down!

Leave him!

He'll slow us down!

Got it!

Now we torture the enemy!

With my Susan Boyle LP.

C'mon, let's see those arses wobble!

One two! One two!

You won't lose your cellulite like that!

I'm gonna smoke a cig!

HORSE GUARDS Prince Harry's Regiment

BRITISH ARMY RECRUITER

There are a lot of fags in the army...

I don't have time for spud duty.

You, for example.

Hear me? You're so stiff, it's not a bit sexy.

1, 2, 3, 4, and toss!

1, 2, 3, 4, and toss!

Tossing your hair back is crucial.

Take the broom out of your arse.

While I check on the others, you rehearse.

Who's the choreographer

who directed this steaming cowpat?

His career is so over!

Too many people.

No fun, I'm going.

I'm going, I said.

What's she following me for?

She's broken my arm!

The dyke's hurting me!

Let go of me!

Okay, call my lawyer.

NOTTING HILL POLICE STATION

Shift, Kate Moss. My bunk.

La di da! Downtown Abbey.

La di da! Up yours!

PROFESSOR OF ETIQUETTE

Can we get some service here?

Like a nun?

See? It worked.

Shit! Gruesome!

Sorry, I'm bored to death.

I need to find a disguise.

Goodbye.

Enjoy your tea, chéri.

Take me to la crème de la crème of English fashion.

PERSONAL SHOPPERS

Like caramel, and my skin is so smooth.

It has to be white and lumpy.

Rice pudding.

Make me leeky.

Unflattering cuts.

With a lot of bad taste.

That's pretty dreadful.

A campsite tablecloth.

Don't worry about the verruca, I have my shoes on.

It's a pain.

A real pain.

Brown or poo-coloured.

That's not leather, it's plastic.

You can be a perfect foil.

So they're tight, tight, tight.

Prince Henri.

Did you see my panties?

There we go.

The trouble is, the hat

hides their hair.

I'm looking for Harry.

He may be over there. Or there.

I'm pretending to stamp down the divots.

Tell me, old fossil...

Just my luck, he's decrepit.

He's senile.

What a pig.

Pervy pops.

I'm Camilla, Countess of Metropolitan Paris.

I'll die of boredom.

Shit, I'd planned it like clockwork.

And it's going to grow back down there.

Let's hope they're less plebby than the spectators.

You're here for the beauty pageant?

With the poodles.

Hello, groom.

You can be my lover.

We'll always use condoms.

And he's not a bit ginger,

then he's going to make trouble.

Okay, great.

Her again!

There's been a misunderstanding, Diana.

The division of duties was clear.

For my part, I've been moving mountains.

What have you done?

Absolutely nothing

with regard to Harry's ex.

She's all over the press.

And she's invited to the Invictus Games.

We must eliminate once and for all

the pathetic limpet.

Let's destroy her reputation.

And nothing lame, like rumours of STDs.

We have to make her a pariah, rejected by all Harry's friends.

More work for me. I'm terribly disappointed, Diana.

That's what I need, an informer.

CHAMBERMAID

It'll go cold.

Your granny?

There's one tiny bollock in the soup.

If you look here, you see...

The leech.

Blow on my tea because it's too hot. Blow!

You don't know how to blow.

Got it!

I have a plan.

No thanks to you.

Damn thing!

You're fat, ugly and your breath stinks, so hold still.

Thank you.

Insane, those stumpy legs!

This is Sausage.

The premise...

You know, the concept.

Get lost, you!

It's totally shit.

It's not what I want.

You're the ugliest thing I've ever seen.

And your breath stinks!

And abandon him.

Stand here.

Don't frown too much. You're not pretty when you frown.

Sausage!

OFFICES OF "THE LADY" Women's magazine since 1885

I would like to speak to the editor-in-chief, please.

Because I have been the witness of something...

We have to tell the Royals before it's too late.

You are the editor-in-chief?

I'm Brigitte Radot.

The defenceless fat corgi.

This is Cressida Bonas, Harry's tart.

I had to report the witch.

I was walking my five dogs.

Well, if you prefer to stay with your 3 subscribers who are about to die.

Don't come crying to me.

And make a huge buzz.

It's slow.

It's the two little fatties fighting.

That's good. Now the hashtags.

#Royalscandal

#Cressidabonasisafatwhore

I love the service industry.

Take it!

I go first, you have a down jacket.

Private club owned by a friend of Prince Harry

Neither will the real Cressida.

I haven't finished! Again!

I need a bigger ovation!

They're still there?

Patience pays off in the end.

I'll never drink again. Bring me a beer.

They scare me.

I hope I'll be safe with my rubber gloves.

Paralympic games organised by Prince Harry

I hear a celebrity!

I'll go and see.

Just need to write a phone number on my panties.

It won't take long.

Thank you.

Henri, no reception!

There's no signal!

The walls are too thick!

An arse!

Pervert!

What do you bet, Harry, I'm gone

That I'm changing

my capital

What do you bet, Harry, I'm gone

That I'm dumping you

On your dirty pavements

No more grey skies, no more dull mornings

They say that in Paris every day is spring

I'm through with Harry

My mind's made up, I'm outta here

And rough!

Don't sell yourselves short, people!

Get back on your life, for shit's sake!

No, don't touch me!

Me 1 hour ago

There.

LITERARY DIRECTOR Editions Michel Lafon

That's the whole story.

The idea's not to recount my romance

with one of the "greats" of this world.

It's all about relating

a universal story that everyone can identify with.

In other words, the story of a broken heart.

Not mine.

His, of course.

Sure.

You see what I mean?

It's a man who suffers and a woman who moves on.

- Right? - Right.

So I've already done

most of the work.

There's not much left for you to do.

Here's a mock-up of it.

That's the title, which I adore.

"Thanks but no thanks for this moment".

With the photo.

I think the format works great.

The bigger it is, the more visible it is,

the more it sells.

Sure.

I've done things that maybe nobody will do again.

And experienced things that maybe nobody will ever experience.

It packs a punch.

A real punch.

Yeah.

THE PARISIAN BITCH PRINCESS OF HEARTS

I think I turned off the camera.

I turned it off. Didn't I?

I meant to say Brigitte. What an idiot!

I'm so stupid.

I've had enough.

I give up, I resign.

I'm surrounded by imbeciles.

I won't let them get away with it.

I've had it up to here.

You take over. Use Google maps.

What do I do now?

You moron!

- I want to see François. - You work here?

No, I need to talk to him.

I recognize you.

Off with his head!

Very dry. It all needs hydrating.

Where are they at with the pill for men?

The male contraceptive pill? Nowhere.

They refused a vasectomy, saying he'd be tired out.

I'm not laughing.

Why share my inheritance with a kid?

And definitely not a bastard.

Given hubby's attraction

to girls of easy virtue...

Is it him or not?

It's him?

David, this earpiece...

This earpiece too big for my ear.

Tell her she's a ninny.

You ninny!

Princely perfection.

A legend!

Great.

Then the scone trick.

It's so yucky.

I was odious.

Let's give him a round of applause.

We're trying to blow her monthly budget.

It's the end of the month...

Who do you mean?

The little one.

Okay.

Her monthly budget.

The stress rises

when I see she's unhappy.

Watch out.

I think she's a prodigy.

Hello! Congratulations!

I get it now.

Last scene of the movie.

I expect to be paid my royalties

before I write a line.

I need to know how many 0's on the cheque.

We're looking at a million in sales.

I doubt we'll sell a million.

You're Michel's secretary?

No, literary director.

I see.

- Have you farted? - Sorry?

Can't you smell it?

Not at all.

- You haven't farted? - No. Cross my heart...

It's a farty smell.

That's enough.

On hidden camera, Huguette.

You little sneaks!

You bunch of sneaks!

Damn you!

She had me fooled.

I was like, poor girl, she's nuts!