Nothing quite says I’m a noted author like tossing out your big fake tits like they’re the daily catch at the fish market. Who wants some tits? Get your tits here? Hey, you read my new book? Hemingway never pulled that shit. Then again, Hemingway only had sagging man boobs, not the trumpet sections Katie Price delivers when she launches the latest installment of her lighthearted memoirs.
Since nobody’s actually ever read her books, it’s impossible to confirm the excellence that surely lies within her folds. But if you buy 100 copies for your store, Katie Price will come dressed as the kind of angel that gets passed around at bachelor parties after the more squeamish guys have left. Katie puts out another one of these autobiographical novels pretty much every six to twelve months. She’s either living some kind of interesting life or the books contain a detailed diary of her stools. I’d probably buy the bowel movement recordings for my Kindle. I’ve got a low threshold on digital downloads.
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