When I questioned the wisdom of giving implants to young women who might not have any breasts yet, a Dr Cillicone told me: "Exactly! Think of the profit—er, benefits!"
"I'm not with you, doctor."
"Mammagraphically-challenged young girls are shockingly disadvantaged in the adolescent relationship arena, not to mention missing out on lucrative modelling contracts, game show appearances and personal care product endorsements."
"But surely, teenage girls should be aiming a bit higher than a career as a 'D-list' celebrity with her own line in fragrances? What about teaching, the sciences or nursing?"
"Nursing?" laughed Dr Cillicone. "Only gayboys and transsexuals go in for nursing nowadays." Pausing only to draw my attention to a copy of Celebrity Teen Tit Teasers in which a silicone-enhanced teenage girl was drooling over a cheque for £500 and a backstage pass to a Christina Uglyera concert, he went on to enthuse: "There's no cash or kudos in these outdated professions. Today's switched-on teenagers want a bit more out of life than emptying bed pans and a fortnight flat on their back in Aiya Napa, young lady!"

On the face of it, persuading our young women to undergo breast implants would seem be a highly dubious way to boost the sales of formula milk, given that the World Health Organisation (WHO) has stated that there is ten times the amount of silicon in formula milk than in a breastfeeding mum with implants. But Nastléy's innovative scientists are clearly one jump ahead of the WHO as Utterpants discovered when our female researcher was offered no less than eighteen free boob jobs by 'independent health professionals' on condition that she stopped breastfeeding her four-month-old baby daughter, Islington.

A leaked memo we have not actually seen, but can confidently predict will be found in box of Pampers as soon as we hear from Nastléy's lawyers, reveals in chilling detail just how far the pharma-giant has gone to ensure that the only mouths sucking on British nipples will be theirs, or as Dr Cillicone put it: "We intend to squeeze British women until the paps—er—pips squeak."
In this shocking document, the company's Chief Scientific Officer outlines his plan to turn every little girl into a Barbie Doll with unusually large breasts. 'These kids want enormous tits just like their celebrity role models,' he wrote 'and we need to sell more formula milk. By giving the fame-hungry little scrubbers what they want, we get what we want. We won't just reverse the decline in the sale of formula milk; we'll clean up. By the time we're done there won't be a lactating tit left in the entire country!'

In chilling detail worthy of Dr Joseph Mengele, the scientist goes on to specify the 'special ingredients' that need to be added to the silicone implants to ensure that they not only inhibit natural milk production, but make it completely unpalatable to babies. As the author puts it: 'Any baby that sucks on one of these puppies is going to be sicker than a dog.' The memo is countersigned by Nastléy's Chief Accountant, Barclay Merchant, who scribbled the following note in the margin:
'Cost of plastic tits (mechanically recovered, second grade): £239.17 per pair, per patient. Expected cost of mass implantation programme: £238M. Current world sales of formula: £569M. Expected increase in formula sales: 22,000%. It's a win-win situation for Nastléy.'

Unsurprisingly, it is Laboratoires L'actate—a subsidiary of the global Nastléy empire, which is supplying the free implants. Among the inducements being offered to young women to undergo breast surgery are free iPods, cosmetics, beauty treatments, fake tans and candy bars—all Nastléy products with the exception of the popular music player, which comes pre-loaded with several bonus tracks by Hot Chocolate—naturally. But this is just the nipple of a much nastier plot to eliminate breastfeeding altogether. Utterpants have learned that Nastléy are paying 'D-list' walking tit-scaffold and professional moron, Jordan (a.k.a. 'Katie Price'), huge wodges of cash to bottle-feed her new baby in public whilst footie punchbag, Victoria Beckham, was paid even more to keep her revolting little rugrat, Brooklyn, out of the limelight altogether. Clearly, Nastléy didn't pay her enough.

But the lucrative Milk train doesn't stop there, as I found out when I spoke to a senior paedatrician whose attitude to breastfeeding was clearly evident from the 'Milk-free zone' button pinned to her white lab coat.
"Frankly, it's not the kind of thing decent, young British women do, Ms McTaggart. Getting your tits out in public for anything other than the Sun is a fast-track passport to sink estate penury. In any event, the modern woman is far too busy juggling a career, a lesbian lover and getting onto the committee at the Tiny Tots Club to suffer sore nipples and bugger about with breast pumps when there's a perfectly decent substitute available at her local Boots. Now niggers—"
"—Niggers?" I interrupted.
"Er...I didn't say that. Look, you won't print that, will you? I meant...um...our third world chums. Look, they don't have access to modern amenities so there really is no option for these impoverished women but to get their tits out in the village square. Try that in Harrod's Food Hall and you'll be slung out on your nipple rings before you can say 'Two tins of Nastléy Baby milk."

"But breastfeeding in public is perfectly acceptable in this coun—"
"Poppycock!" snorted the paedatrician." You try waltzing into Chez Nico's at 10pm flaunting two enormous damp patches on the front of your Elspeth McNipple designer frock and see how far you get. You'll be bloody lucky to be shown the door with your bottom intact, never mind the top table. Look, take my advice dear, and use a bottle like a civilized person. If God had wanted women to breastfeed their babies he shouldn't have given the little monsters such sharp milk teeth!"

I put our findings to a spokestypeperson at the Department of Health and asked him what the government proposed to do about Nastléy's nasty scheme.
"Nothing."
"I beg your pardon?" I replied. "Your department is actively promoting breastfeeding. Isn't it a bit hypocritical to sit back and do nothing while the world's largest producer of an inferior product—formula milk—is spending millions making sure British women won't be able to feed their babies even if they want to?"
"We can't force women to breastfeed, Ms McTaggart."
"But you can stop Nastléy handing out free, plastic tits to British teenagers!"
"No we can't."
"What?"
"Look, Nastléy have not broken any laws. No one is forcing these young women to have these operations. It's a question of personal choice. It is government policy not to interfere in questions of personal choice."
"Except if they smoke."
The spokestypeperson glared at me. "Look! Smoking is harmful. There is no evidence that breast implants cause actual harm."
"But they stop women breastfeeding! What greater harm is there?"

"I'm sorry, Ms McTaggart," said the spokestypeperson sweeping my chest pityingly with his eyes. You clearly feel very strongly about your own petite tit—er breasts. But there is no getting away from the fact that unusually large—"
"—Unusually large, hard, fake breasts that babies can't suckle, you mean," I interrupted.
"All right. There is no getting away from the fact that unusually large and hard, fake breasts are a tremendous asset to any woman in today's highly competitive society."

"Not for babies, they're not. It's just preying on womens' insecurities and pandering to a sick, male obsession."
"Feminist nonsense, Ms McTaggart. Nastléy are simply responding to consumer demand."
"But that's unnatural."
"No, it's consumerism, Ms McTaggart. Now, please excuse me; I have some important forms to complete for my daughter. Laboratoires L'actate only have a limited number of places you know."

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