Sundays and Implants

Sunday bloody Sunday, Sundays are so dull are they?. Your just waiting for the last part of your hangover to die off. You can't be bothered moving. The fear of the onset of work on the Monday. The TV schedule is worse than having a Sunday dinner with Heston Blumingthal., over indulgent with layers of bullshit. The news story of the past month, graces us again. Is the scandal of the implants that have been given by the NHS. Now I have never understood why anyone would want to give there right breast to have implants. I mean people are going to look at these women and say wow what a perfect size of boob's. The woman gets a wee lift, no pun intended. Then she feels good about herself, gets home undresses and see herself in the mirror, and boom she feels like crap, or feels a right tit, pun intended. So correct me if I'm wrong why would she con herself into thinking that she has large breasts when she doe's not. I mean say the builder catches a eye of the woman with the perfect breasts and wolf whistles, this lady thinks I'm not a piece of meat and takes the matter to court. Could the builder's lawyers find out that the breasts that she had were fake and claim that he would of never whistled if they were saggy. There is a chance he could get away with it. I mean a lot of these women have had there breasts done for image and vanity, and  now they complain, as they might be faulty. Jesus just be happy with the body that you have. You might have small breasts, but a nice figure.  I now call these women Narcissus Implantus,  named after the greed god of vanity and implants, xx