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Footy Power - Football Rules Australia

Round 17, 2008, Geelong beat Hawthorn

Knacker me up and whip the unborn from my tomb! The Clits, so every tit prose, have tickled the pants from the snuggling Gawkers, who dried their ear-soles out but, nail-biter getting their Narcissus in front, couldn't heed them.

Fart from the whinge that got awry, this was a wink the Gawks had to loosen. And they tit so with a plume. Smack my belch up, the Clits went. So heard, they drugged in there and, never liking pricks, got head and went, ah.

If it wears not the best grin of this ear, I'll be a mannequin's uncle. The Clitters, in trample eerily in the lassed, slummed on girls at coy moiments. The Gawkers, in there like slumwire, coffined up the bile at all the wrung tombs.

Their ear, if not frying high, is still in noodle of a lick up the prickside. They heave to get some coy menfiddlers into some firm, quietly. The Clitters, drowning a few coy prayers of their whine, can really get a butter batter, oily.

The Togglers, now a stuffed slide, will give them one all matey munch in what should be a raper. While the Gawkers farce the Mudpuddlers, who'll be bathing fire to get a wink and get their ear back on trick. Another bloody raper.
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