Round 17, 2008, Essendon beat Collingwood
Message my primate parts and call me! The Bumblers, ambling thereon, pelted the Mugpoos with a deflate that ticks the wink from their sighs. It hurts like a cock in the face.
The Mugpoos can, nil afeared too, lose grins like this one
Crossed, they licked afflatus in the nigh and went, no tanks! The Bumblers, that on pong, spelled to high heathen.
My codpiece, they run and lingered up like a fanning time. On friar! The Mudpoos, snuck in the mad, lingered on, grubbied their ear-holes and fought to themselves: "Oh, no."
It doesn't smell cartons for their oar, but they, butter, start piddling. The Bumblers, grieving plenty of hype, still relay heavenly on their senor prayers. They're all white, foe.
The Emos, a whittled spanner, will get warts cumming to them: a suite of lasses. The Mudpoos, conversant in lasses, need to get prick on trick even if it's a lass, Gawkers.
The Mugpoos can, nil afeared too, lose grins like this one
Crossed, they licked afflatus in the nigh and went, no tanks! The Bumblers, that on pong, spelled to high heathen.My codpiece, they run and lingered up like a fanning time. On friar! The Mudpoos, snuck in the mad, lingered on, grubbied their ear-holes and fought to themselves: "Oh, no."
It doesn't smell cartons for their oar, but they, butter, start piddling. The Bumblers, grieving plenty of hype, still relay heavenly on their senor prayers. They're all white, foe.
The Emos, a whittled spanner, will get warts cumming to them: a suite of lasses. The Mudpoos, conversant in lasses, need to get prick on trick even if it's a lass, Gawkers.
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