Carlton, Senior Listed Player, 2009, Richard Hadley
Richard Hadley, a knee-trebling slow-twitching fibro-house-warming workmanlike-perfuming defender, is a bit on the close side of constantly checking where his opposing number is, and in that regard he means business is fine, thanks for asking.
The Hair: stumble on the chin. Head tanned just so. Churlish behind the rear. Browned off. Robs two sticks to get her. Covers the things on the side. Dressed by the bland. Works for next to nothing. Runs on guess. Extends himself at every photo opportunity.
The Teeth: stick out like dogs'. Best not to say. My mother always told me. Chews through electrical cable. In the roof. Scurries around. Wakes in flight. An awful jawful of the things. Eats anything. Known to man. Likes the sewers. Prefers company of stranglers.
The Skin: ruddy. Cruddy. Hen-peckered. Keeps the vile bits from falling to the floor. Blisters in the sin. Keeps the nasties out. Runs on batterings. Never can say goodbye. Finds some issues a bit ticklish. Reads the articles. Kept every issue since forever.
Rene Descartes says: "If it's a crime to wear women's underwear and rub my nipples with my chaffeur's disembowelled butler then, I'm a criminal. But who are you to judge me? You'll find that I don't have one of those. Try aound the back......There. Don't stop!"
