In what may be the most important story of the day we learn what you get when you cross Sharon Osbourne.
Shit. Boxes of it. She takes some of her faeces, boxes it up (in posh boxes of course) and sends it too you. For all of the Freudians out there she seems to have a bit of a fixation with the stuff. She also used to mix Ozzy's dope to get him from smoking it. (She doesn't say whether it worked or not.) She also smeared on one of her father's favourite ornaments after he stole from her.
I assume that reviewers will take this into account before they write up here next book.
In the meantime the tabloids seem more concerned about her new tits and whether we will get to see them soon.
Shit. Boxes of it. She takes some of her faeces, boxes it up (in posh boxes of course) and sends it too you. For all of the Freudians out there she seems to have a bit of a fixation with the stuff. She also used to mix Ozzy's dope to get him from smoking it. (She doesn't say whether it worked or not.) She also smeared on one of her father's favourite ornaments after he stole from her.
I assume that reviewers will take this into account before they write up here next book.
In the meantime the tabloids seem more concerned about her new tits and whether we will get to see them soon.
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