Cri de coeur courtesy thirty something English earl cry baby

Cri de coeur courtesy thirty something English earl cry baby the Earl of Yarmouth (William Seymour) a descendant of very late (to the power of Google - ha) Jane Seymour, Henry VIII's third wife currently in a legal battle with his parents, the Marquess and Marchioness of Hertford, over the family estate, Ragley Hall located in Alcester, Warwickshire, England, at B49 5NJ constitutes a 17th century Palladian stately home set in 450 acres of parkland in Warwickshire sued his parents for "trauma" after NOT inheriting a 6,000 acre, $105 million estate for his thirtieth birthday contrary to the rule of primogeniture. how cruel, shameless and unspeakable unnecessary psychological suffering ensued, imposed, and ordained upon talking head of said heir being royal parentage Livin' on a Prayer (courtesy Jon Bon Jovi) lamented being shortchanged courtesy supposed stingy parents, who did not even bequeath a damned weir. if locked out of a sizable estate yours truly too would fight tooth and nail (no matter I wear dentures) against being denied patrimony (ranking as a worse fate than death), cue marionette strings to pull tight and the listener to pantomime violins to orchestrate voiding any chance at tête-à-tête not deeding a modest fortune to first born male heir, hence forcing eldest son to hire himself (with egg on his face) out as a yokemate. aforementioned tidy fortune linkedin with tragi-comic high drama will inevitably be exhausted courtesy bickering as countless court - battles him of the republic in which it stands... (plagiarizing pledge of allegiance for personal mutinous gain) ensue - forcing prodigal son against father, and holy ghost supposed descendent of Jane Seymour, whose spirit can host the pity party perhaps even reviving the court of King Crimson subtle allusion to King Henry VIII. yours truly a fluent bloke, which two words forged together to create affluent suddenly becomes only a tabloid fodder for and about proletarian pennsylvanian poet fancy and fantasy of mine truth be told being born into wealth and unabashedly crying the blues generates no empathy from me, and maybe sympathy for the devil he will evoke, but of course archaic contractual obligations buried deep in the webbed wide world archives of English law will invoke paternal obligations reminding twenty first century sophisticates if any questionable breech to stint (once again stretching the legal limits of credulity) concerning the welfare of menfolk such ridiculous questionable logic, the supposed traumatized young man will quicken others infinitesimal chance of securing riches due to bastard whose imagination, the Earl of Yarmouth (William Seymour) unwittingly did stoke and even the writer of these words woke to fabricate being linkedin acquiring money and predilection of jaw dropping wealth, which delusions and illusions of grandeur finds me to swallow my pride, and feel the burden of invisible yoke.