It’s official. The summer of 2008 is all about cleavage. There hasn’t been a heat wave, flood or hurricane, Big Brother is boring, Glastonbury didn’t rock any boats and England weren’t at Euro 2008.
So, the nation has filled the hole left by the absence of a single galvanising event with an awful lot of tit talk.
We gasped in awe at Helen Mirren’s magnificent, sixtysomething bikini-clad bosom, emerging from the sea like the proud bow of a ship – she has now graduated from national treasure to national treasure chest. We were scandalised by Sienna Miller flaunting bare-naked bee-stings while on holiday with her married boyfriend. And we worried that Jordan’s ever-morphing mammaries would get in the way of her Olympic dressage dream.
Nothing lifts and separates Brits more than breasts and how they are dressed. Big or little, it’s how you wear them that counts. For some, cleavage is a good thing. (Kelly Brook has made a career out of hers.) How else do you explain the popularity of the new boob jab?
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