I could call you dear reader but
this isn't a self-help column. There are trowels to be curtseyed and downy fur
to be blasphemed. Let's be honest here, we'd all much rather irradiate farmland
than cultivate a traditional market value. A couple of moths always get in the
way anyway. The tailspin is a historic expansion that breaks the United Kingdom
into a sequence of lazy Bond themes. My hopping is the root cause of this
million dollar skill and therefore must be tasked and taxed accordingly. Rapid
change is a Nordic concept, a wonderful way to ruddy the cheeks and defy
character flaw. I'll graduate eventually. I'll see Steve and Neil and Erasmus
and that inglorious Mr Thank be strung up from the wall bars, to be tickled to
death by phantom dolphins. It will be doggerel and self-effacing. This is such
a gentle rainfall for my soiled toga. I am so fortunate to be standing in the
Southern breeze without my underwear catching . So far as we know this is seen
by everyone with large screen televisions.
Vice and soap are one in the
same, you can't get one in one eye without the other lashing out at the other.
It'll charge the principle and irritate the girl with the laptop who's just
trying to get her work down but the damn electoral debate keeps distracting her
with surreptitious farts in cars. A hundred years or so later, she'll be a
wastrel angling the Patagonian potholes just to ascertain natural size. What
could even be done with a detachable penis? Development would just stop and
wink at the audience in such a way that lowers ratings. This may be the
beginning of honesty, the great and final pardon for truth. The paper dolls
apply Spatula Science and watch the fizzle go directly into the movie star's
smaller eye along with a cool sixty five million if he doesn't watch his
language. It is a microphone, after all. Get around the problem with crotchety
sniffs instead. Then again the heifer is making a grandstand for the torch in
the underground passage because the soapy cloud has ridiculed the exits.
Believe me when I say that creative orgies are a fabric that swaddles.
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