You What?

And so the great herds of turbo badgers swept majestically down the slopes of our hillsides into the fertile valleys below, there to sweep across the great plains, go twice around the Wrekin and then apply for jobs in the very call-centres of our souls. But not once did such vicissitudes once deter us from our overwhelming desire  to pour lukewarm custard over the naked chiropodist held captive in the car park of The Pervert’s Appendage, for today is – as you should all know –

cont.

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