|
HolD THE Newsreaders nose squarley waiter, or friendly milk will underestimate the amount of soil inhabiting the whiteness of my trousers, which are held up with the cloud that rained on nazareth that flew over Julius Ceasers' arsehole. Ew how sweaty, said the rabbit as he took a nice big whiff of the mess he'd made of his uncles cousins dogs dishes life.
__________________
Dost thou expect me, thy monarch, to dine on such meagre portions thus 'ere?!
|