There's Something About Katy (Still)

Dear Katy,

On the off chance that you’re not filling yourself with even more Home Brand Porridge and instead are reading this, then please don’t take this the wrong way, but I think I’m over you.

I would tweet you this life changer but alas my life is incredibly boring so I really have nothing of interest to say. That puts me in the same bracket as 95% of Twitter users but there you go.

Why just moments ago I was ironing my shirts for work, watching your video hits on one of our local music channels. Mind numbingly boring it was too. The ironing, not your videos.

Anyhoo, it occurred to me, whilst watching a visual selection of your songs to date, that I really fancied the hot pants off you more when you were kissing girls, running hot & cold and waking up in Vegas.

You had that something special about you that is sadly, no longer there. Back then you were all that and a bag of chips, now you know it and that’s not sexy.

I think things started to go downhill in this relationship of ours when you did the Timbaland song and let’s not even get started on the collaboration with those gaylords who can’t even spell ‘303’...thankfully they didn’t play that video today.

Which lead to ripping off the Beach Boys in your collaboration with Snoop.

Now I must admit that you spraying whipped cream from your boobs is a little bit kinky and that yes, lying naked on a bed of candyfloss is very naughty. Stripping down in a hotel room like a teenager is indeed wet dream stuff, but yet, I was more turned on at the thought of pressing my cuffs perfectly.

Where did the magic go KP?

I used to dig your crazy sexy cool mixture of confidence and vulnerability, now you’re just everywhere an all over everything. I used to love your cool, kooky, vintage dress sense too but now its blue hair and shit. I know you’re doing the voice of Smurfette in a movie real soon but that doesn’t mean you have to dress like her.

Sadly it seems as if I’m not the only one. You know your star is fading when your duet with Elmo, a puppet for fucks sake, gets cut from Sesame Street because it’s too raunchy.

So you were wearing a flesh coloured mesh thing, who knew? Mums with less impressive cleavage than yours don’t notice little things like that and they complain real loud.

That said, your piss take of the whole sad saga on Saturday Night Live was pretty damn funny – “Today’s episode is brought to you by the letters Double D and the number 34” - and if I were to be truly honest, a little bit of the old you.

So maybe I’m not over you at all, you sexy thing you.

BTW, I’d iron your hot pants if you asked me too. I would do that for you.

KP let me take this in happier times...

Her Next Door

Today I read yet another trivial ‘news’ story featuring Katy Perry, the very sexy singer who touched us all with her breakthrough song about kissing a girl.

I fancy her like crazy but not since she started dating Russell Brand. What's he got that I haven't is what I ask myself when dancing topless to her songs in the mirror.

Why is it that when someone windswept and interesting like Perry comes along we all start gagging for any tidbit of a story that might prove even more titillating than the last?

Whether she really does like to kiss girls or not who cares? She sang a song about it and got over it, if only we could. Now that she’s hooked up with that mangina Brand it’s like all the newspapers and websites in the world are hoping that it all goes spectacularly sexual so that they have a licence to print even more money.

I do like her songs though and it’s okay for a guy to sing them too, which isn’t always the case because girlie songs are not always suited for a deep manly voice like mine, thanks to my bull like testicles.

I have been sitting at home today, with the front door wide open, singing like no one is listening and only now do I realise someone has been - she next door who likes to sunbathe topless in the back yard.

I wouldn't mind that she gets her knockers out as often as she does were she 17 but she's about 50 and at that age gravity is the enemy. All summer I have been painting the fences and there is a section that I am yet to paint because I can see through the planks. Even if I tried not to, I would still see through the planks.

I had a close call the other day whilst painting the section next to said glory hole. My wife was water blasting the drive at the time and she next door, perhaps panicking at the thought of an unexpected shower, popped her head above the parapets to see just how far away the missus was.

Thankfully she didn’t look my way because I wasn’t in the mood to make conversation with a topless retiree, but the real relief was that I wasn’t working on the said section because I would have had a knothole full of nipple and she a body paint experience like no other.

Needless to say that section can bloody wait till the winter.

The view through planks three and four...