If we told you that Kayla Collins had taken to selling the virtue of members of her own sex for financial profit, not only would this be illegal, it would be a wholesome untruth. Kayla Collins is not a madam. She may be a diva, but she’s no madam. Let’s clear that up right at the start.
So, incriminating as the picture of her posing, Hugh Hefner-like, in between a couple of Playboy Bunny-esque models may appear, we can attest that nothing untoward took place between these three at any point during their acquaintance. Which is rather a shame, actually. They could've at least simulated something. The frigid teases.
Her arm candy were nowehere to be seen at the Burlesque premiere
You see, what happened was, Kayla had a Christmas party at the Funky Buddha club last night, and she invited along literally anyone that would come. We’d have come ourselves, but we haven’t got SKY+ and weren’t going to miss the parliamentary debate on sheltered housing provisions in suburban constituencies. It was intense stuff. Though sadly we lost the motion.
Kayla, flanked on either side by Royal Protection officers
However, Kayla did manage to coax along a number of people who must’ve had SKY+, including a disproportionate amount of infamous lothario sleazebags, such as Calum Best, Jack Tweed, and his good friend Mark Wright (insufferable twat from The Only Way Is Essex – though we realise this doesn’t much narrow it down). We wonder what attracted these fine specimens there. Evidently they have a misconception that glamour models are easy. Anyway, none of them got lucky, so the tale ends happily.