Round 19, 2008, Geelong beat Melbourne
Writing is the bile of words! The Cutters, filing on all colanders, drain the Emos, toss them in putty then fly them in for a rheumatic, dunny by kennel hate. Thank that for a joke!
The Emos, wella woman by the way she wires her halo, lend over and went all the way, for shampoo. The Cutters, shodding no merci, thank them with not a nancy of respect.
It's as one, weird, excepts of the ruining broomers: they put the fat down, and usually on the threat. This time it just opened to the Emos, pants down the weariest of the camp.
Without drought they will geld the written spin, but it could get warts before it gets butter; the Cutters, only heave to send out, for they'll get the takeaway - all thongs cream at a cuss.
The Swines, besaddling themselves with feel, could shit them down - if they do their stiff; while the Emos and Oglers piddle it out to see who ears the whinger of the rotten spin.
The Emos, wella woman by the way she wires her halo, lend over and went all the way, for shampoo. The Cutters, shodding no merci, thank them with not a nancy of respect.
It's as one, weird, excepts of the ruining broomers: they put the fat down, and usually on the threat. This time it just opened to the Emos, pants down the weariest of the camp.
Without drought they will geld the written spin, but it could get warts before it gets butter; the Cutters, only heave to send out, for they'll get the takeaway - all thongs cream at a cuss.
The Swines, besaddling themselves with feel, could shit them down - if they do their stiff; while the Emos and Oglers piddle it out to see who ears the whinger of the rotten spin.
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