Jasmine Lennard has shoved her cloven hooves into her flip flops again and sold the secrets of her lock-box to The Sun-on-Sunday. Someone told me that if you look inside the ash tray of her car, you’ll find more money in there than you’ll find in her bank account. So when someone waves a bankers draft at her she’ll grab it with both hands and then head straight for the nearest Cash Convertors.
Last week Mike D. W posted on Jasmine’s sloppy liason of lust with The Wanted’s Max George in a hotel in Los Angles, but little did he know she was planning to sell the secrets of their bedroom encounter to a Sunday newspaper. (he did, we all did)
Jasmine has already proved a million times over that there’s a basement under the bottom of her barrel, because she keeps slipping lower and lower but laughing her ass off at Max George’s bedroom techniques has to be rock bottom.
In a story of pure smuttery which Jasmine has sold to the tabloid this nasty bitch had this to say about poor Max:
“I keep reading about what a stud Max is and how he is God’s gift to women, but he was like a rabbit.
“There wasn’t a lot of technique and the whole thing was over very fast. I’d kicked him out of the room within 15 minutes. In the end I felt I would have had more fun in bed with Lucy Mecklenburgh than him.
At the end I was like, ‘What happened?’ It was very rushed. He’s got a lot to learn. I just wanted it to be over as quickly as possible. I have to have a mental connection with someone for the sex to be satisfying.”
(Via: The Sun-on-Sunday)
Haven’t we heard this all before? This is exactly what she said about the last man she sold down the river and exactly the kind of thing I’d expect from a nasty, gross skank who used to entertain people in her history class by eating her own boogies. Yes, piece of skank trash!
This is what I’m talking about:
Source: The Sun-on-Sunday