Busty and the Irish thoroughbred

Oh Aintree, was it really only a week ago that I lost it all on Zeroshadesofgrey in the Doom Bar Sefton Novices’ Hurdle? Never has a race sponsor been more fitting for my big tip of the week, as it was all doom and gloom round my parts, come 5pm last Friday after my nag pulled up.
To be honest, I seem to be the kiss of death for the gee-gees at the moment; you may recall the Giant Bolster also underperformed at Cheltenham this time last month.
Luckily, last week did have a happy ending, or so I thought, after I managed to hitch a ride with one of those gorgeous Irish jockeys at Aintree. (He could even have given Eulogy’s Adrian Brady – the silvery-tongued slight man from Sligo – a run for his money). And I’m sure you’ll believe me when I tell you, he was a master with the riding crop and was still going strong way beyond the final furlong.
My post-coital after-glow was still burning bright when I was approached by a fellow busty girl, who just so happened to work for the online lingerie retailer Bras & Honey. Apparently she’d copped an eyeful of little ol’ me earlier on in the day and said she was keen to do business.
Now, girls, never let it be said that I don’t look a gift horse in the mouth but even I was slightly taken aback by this proposition. What did she take me for? Some sort of high-class hooker? (Although to be honest I could’ve done with the cash, having blown it all on Zeroshades.)
However, it transpired that she didn’t want me to perform there and then, instead she offered me a job as the new, er, face of Bras & Honey. Talk about an offer you can’t refuse – I get to travel around the world showing off my curves and can have my pick of the firm’s entire range of lingerie. To top it all, I get paid handsomely for it, too.
Sadly, just as I was about to sign on the dotted line, it all went tits up – quite literally. You see, I got a little over-excited when I spotted my Irish jockey friend emerging from the weighing room, and gushed to my would-be boss that he was the best shag I’d had in years.
“Really?” she responded. “Yep, he’s got the stamina of a thoroughbred and a manhood to match,” I enthused. At which point she grabbed hold of the contract, ripped it into pieces and bellowed: “That’s my husband, you slag!”
You see, I did tell you it’s not easy being me…

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