Boobs. Monstrosities. Josie Cunningham, 22, an aspiring glamour model, was so “distressed” with her flat chest that she persuaded doctors to inflate her artillery, her main armament if you like, to size 36DD.
Performed on the NHS, mark you, the cost to taxpayers £4800 and to be exhibited shamelessly in all their glory in the red tops.
Josie’s ambition is to become a topless model. I said 36DD. It just isn’t natural, is it? I find the very thought of it revolting and I’ve written to my MP about it.
Here’s a late flash. The lady’s aspirations have already been realised. A national newspaper has plastered them Page 3-style, I’m told. I didn’t watch. I’ve been preoccupided rolling my painted Easter eggs down Calton Hill, with no assistance from any NHS surgeon.
Presumably the lady has donated her fat fee from that paper to the NHS, covering the NHS’ expense.
We’d meet for a natter about things military or life itself in the New Town. General Sir Michael Gow – Mike to all and sundry, including a sundry columnist from the Evening News – was stimulating crack at his Ann Street home replete with chairlift.
Creaking health could never stifle his humour.
A Scots Guard, he led an action-packed life. Governor of Edinburgh Castle in 1979. In his latter years, his mobility seriously hampered, I’d find him increasingly dependent on his doting wife Jane.
Telling me on every visit they really would have to move to ground-level accommodation.
His Guardsman chin was always up and I’m sad to see Mike, pictured below, join the regiment in the sky at 88.