Oh most magnificent derriere. Thou sainted tush. Thy heavenly glutes wobble in a mystical dance of heaving womanhood. Nothing compares 2 Uranus.
We love a good rant here at Blather. Love it we do. A good rant and a fine pair of butt cheeks. And so, joy was unfettered today at the London Blather outpost when we read the following in the Indo:
“It is despicable and horrifying that my marriage was used as a chance to stamp on me. There are reasons why this has happened.
One: Those papers were angry they didn’t know anything about the wedding.
Two: They never will.
Three: I am fantastically talented.
Four: I have a fantastic arse. Which has been responsible for the conception of my four lovely children, by four lovely men. By the presence in my life of those beautiful children and their four beautiful fathers, I am honoured and proud.”
As are we Sinead. As are we. Just to gaze upon your magnificent rump, to ogle your child-bearing botty, to worship at the altar of your fantastically shaped fundament – these are the things that keep this feeble Blatherskite going.
Sinead’s article in the Irish Independent
From the Commons on Flickr.