The Day I Shagged Kylie up the Arse

I must confess you have been lured here under false pretences. Miss Minogue’s orifices, rectal or otherwise, have remained unsullied by the Murray manhood – despite the many nude Polaroids and samples of pubic hair I sent her by recorded delivery. Why, shame to admit, I have not even had Dannii.
However, I have borrowed this notion of boosting traffic to my blog from my dear old pals at The Drum. A token mention of the World Cup here, a fleeting and shallow look at the iPad and even some ill-informed shite about China – all aimed at attracting unwary googling browsers to their site and artificially – and temporarily – swelling their visitor numbers. Love to see the number of revisits.
Shame on my pals at Brazen et al, supposedly experts in social media, for falling for this tosh and retweeting the Drum’s claims to be the 999th most read website in the UK, which still sees them nestling somewhere between donkeyporn.org.uk and johnselwyngummersfavouritesmells.co.uk.
Deceptive, lacking verification and only taken on board by the ill-informed – if Carlsberg wrote positioning statements for Glasgow-based publishing companies…
Nick Clegg was my bitch at Eton by the way