"Why aye, man - she's a reet little raver
- when she gets gannin, the kna's," Mr Gascoigne said from his hotel bed in Tucson,
Arizona. Sipping champagne eagerly, he lay back trembling while Granny simultaneously
sucked his right nipple and caressed his generous testicles.
"Ah'd
never shoved it up the dunger before," he explained to the assembled Pressmen.
"Burrif that George Michael can dae it...."
"Suck
the other one pet," he purred to Granny, stroking her hair affectionately. "Mak
them the same size fer the lads."
There was an
audible "sizzle" while the world's cameras refocused on Mr Gascoigne's other
nipple - Granny holding her tongue stationary at its tip, the better for the autofocus
mechanisms to operate. Somehow she even managed to smile while doing this.
"Ah've always been a fan of his, the kna's"
Paul continued. "George Michael ah mean. And Elton John an all. An Freddy Morcury -
when he was alive, tharris."
Then picking
Granny up with his strong, tanned, muscular arms, and spreading her well-worn but still
serviceable buttocks, he placed her right above his goalpost penis and started to take
possession.
"Ow!" said Granny, when he was still only halfway in. "It's too big."
(Granny often said this to her lovers - it did no harm, and made them feel good. Until
today, she'd never actually meant it.)
"It's a game of two halves, pet," Gazza
moaned, "Let's gan fer penalties, eh?"
(That's quite enough about that. This is a
Family Newspaper....Ed.)
(Photo-sets of the happy couple can be yours for just £10.99)
