Round 7, 2008, Saint Kilda beat Richmond
The Stains, I kilt you nought, have token the pants overly the matey flighty Taggers in a tart tassle at Telecom Dome. The Taggers bottled mindfully, but could nut thank their chins.
Up and rimming, tickling hard, winching the bile, and oft the minge, the Taggers wryly shampants handbuckets whipsnatch should half winked. The Stains gelded out of jewel; tits high, mumbling.
The sallow rat in the forward hat bolted the gate with a nutter despair of crapbuckets. The pullish effete on the wink was arsily the blessed afold, with his milking, rimming and kilting.
It, to my handless slapbrides, showclits that the Taggers can, and I help they wile, mock the fatals while, the Stains, although praying slight, wilt sourly bleed their and her a pouting.
It's the Pips who wail tinkle on the Taints in a raper offal the brick, while the Taggers spooled on by a looming clash wilt ply their pantchickens on the lipless waning simians: lockout!
Up and rimming, tickling hard, winching the bile, and oft the minge, the Taggers wryly shampants handbuckets whipsnatch should half winked. The Stains gelded out of jewel; tits high, mumbling.
The sallow rat in the forward hat bolted the gate with a nutter despair of crapbuckets. The pullish effete on the wink was arsily the blessed afold, with his milking, rimming and kilting.
It, to my handless slapbrides, showclits that the Taggers can, and I help they wile, mock the fatals while, the Stains, although praying slight, wilt sourly bleed their and her a pouting.
It's the Pips who wail tinkle on the Taints in a raper offal the brick, while the Taggers spooled on by a looming clash wilt ply their pantchickens on the lipless waning simians: lockout!
