We can exclusively reveal that the mysterious 'businessman' pop princess Britney Spears has claimed is stalking her, is none other than Gdubya Bush — a notorious arms dealer and former snake oil salesman from Wacko, in Texas. In a shock announcement made in front of the twenty-seven stunned fans who had packed LA's Timberlake Stadium to see her, America's teen idol tearfully revealed her secret liaison with the world's most wanted terrorist.

"I did it again - um, I mean like, we did and then, like — we did it again and again."
The announcement comes at a time when the career of the former virgin is at rock bottom. Indeed, one cynic suggested to us that Britney must have been snorting rocks up her bottom to claim that a man of Gdubya Bush's standing would stoop to slipping the presidential pork to the bombed-out blond bimbo.

We put this very reasonable question to the man himself when we interviewed him at his kosher chicken ranch, outside Wacko, today. 'The Prez', as Mr Bush likes to be called, stoutly denied that he had savoured the sultry starlet’s silicone charms.
"I have no recollection of having sex with that woman," said the suspected terrorist, sourly.

"Does that mean she's making it up?" we asked.
"This is a world that is much more uncertain than the past. In the past I was certain, we were certain, that when we had sex we would certainly recollect having it. We were certain, and therefore we certainly never denied the certainties we were certain of. That's what we were certain of. We're certain that even though Ms Spear's career may have bottomed out, the certainty that she had one remains pretty certain. We're certain there are people who would never believe that a President of the United States would have sex with a woman young enough to be his grandaughter."
At that point our interview was unexpectedly cut short by a telephone call from a Saudi Arabian gentleman who wanted to ask Mr Bush's advice about his Iraqi oil shares.

The respected singer-songwriter, Bonnie Bitchell, made her feelings about Ms Spear's latest outrage very clear when she told us: 'The sooner that little slut is flushed down the crapper with all the other teenage turds, the sooner this shitty industry can disappear into the cesspool it's become.'
We assume the canadian crooner was referring to the clauses now being written into recording contracts which require female singers to wear leather thongs, get a boob job and finger their crotches on stage.

We eventually tracked down the pop pin-up to a sleazy motel room in Moose Creek, Montana and waited while she visited the wash room.
"I think you have a little powder on your nose, Ms Spears," we remarked, as the fun-sized, busty beauty bounced into the room.
"Eeeeww!" she exclaimed, wiping the glittering white dust from her flushed face. "Like, it's not what you think, you know? It's just a cold in the head,'kay?"
We asked the busty barbie-doll why the leader of the greatest nation on Earth would be remotely interested in a talentless two-timing todger-teaser with a brain even smaller than his.

"Well like Georgie was sooo hot and I was like sooo horn, um — attracted to him," pouted the pop prima donna. "And then he starts telling me about the war on terror and I was like OMIGOD! That is soooo coool! And then he told me he was, like the King of America and he wanted me to like, be his Queen and I was like, sooo thrilled and he was like, sooo hot and it made my dad like, really, really mad and my mom really, really, jealous and all my friends thought he was like, sooo cool and that we made like, THE CUTEST COUPLE! And then he said we should start a family and I was like OMIGOD — hit me baby one more time, and he was like, all romantic and I was like SO sure that we would be together like, forever, and — what was the question again?"

"I think you've answered it, dear," we said. "Why don't you just admit you made the whole thing up as a cheap publicity stunt?"
"It wasn't cheap!" protested the pretentious pin-up. "I paid like, $500 for the photos!"
"Pathetic." we commented, whereupon the simpering starlet burst into tears.
"Nobody loves me anymore," she sobbed, "my shrink says my bottom is gross. Is my bottom too big? I wish my hair was thicker. I wish my feet were prettier. My toes are really ugly. I wish my ears were smaller. And my boobies could be bigger, couldn't they? I'm still pretty, aren't I? I can sing and dance can't I? I mean — like, I've still got LOADS of talent — right?

"You're a star, Britney", we reassured the neurotic nymphet.
"Do you really think so?" Oh - you're sooo sexy! Can I kiss you?"
"Not bloody likely," I replied, fending off the flighty floosie. "I'm a happily hitched hetero mother of two."
"C'mon," pleaded the pint-sized pop princess, "Madge did it. Everyone's doing it."
"Oh - all right then," I conceded. "But no tongue please — I'm British!"

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