"The rack is real!" screeched the publicity hungry, contrived fool while she flaunted said mounds of flesh for all to see. Obviously painfully aware that she's about to fade into permanent obscurity, Perry has gone textbook and resorted to tit-talk. While flaunting the kind of cavernous cleavage capable of suffocating hoards of unsuspecting teenage boys, she defended herself:
"How could people think these are fake? Look at 'em! They are as real as real can be."
She's right you know. Fake ones don't sag like that. On she goes:
"One hundred per cent genuine and untouched… well sort of. I would never spend money on fake boob. Shoes, maybe. A handbag, maybe. But plastic tits - no way!"
Ah, what searing insights, mind blowing musical talent and fascinating back story.
But so as not to get a pasting from 99 per cent of Hollywood, she hastily added:
"I am not against people who get things done. A tuck or a lift never hurt anyone. In 50 years time I may look like a Siamese cat in a wind tunnel."
A cat in a wind tunnel? Now that, Katy Perry, would finally be the thing to make you worth a second look.
Lou Lou
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