Sweet leaves

Since starting this blog we've sent the Too-Much-Info-o-meter into overdrive on the occasions we posted pictures of our pasty paunch and revealed our recent foray into the world of pilates ended with a case of piles, so we feel we'd be cheating you out of vital trivia you-really-don't-want-to-know if we weren't to enlighten you that we cracked a sly one out this morning over those pictures of Sinitta - who is seriously on some hasn't-aged-since-'88 female Corey Feldman type shit - from saturday's papers.





It's a testament to Sinitta's paramount milfness that she can ooze the sex appeal of an Inca goddess standing next to a stocky, middle-aged inhabitant of Lilliput with a Paul 'Mr Wonderful' Orndorff hairdoo and some horrific bootcut jeans. Where's the from-behind shots, though? Ass pix or GTFOOH in future.

Here at The Martorialist we take a Wenger-esque approach to insipid saturday night telly, but if the existence of such shows means we get to see flicks of Sinitta prancing around wearing nothing but a handful of palm leaves in an attempt to drum up extra publicity for The X-Factor and highlight her forthcoming Greatest Hits set - which, almost unbelievely, is a double cd - then, like Frank said, you're welcome.. you're all welcome.

AC/DC - Sin City