2nd Qualifying Final, 2008, Hawthorn beat Western Bulldogs
The Gawkers, looking like granny's uppers, have made mutts' meat of the Dullblogs, yawning for a shit at the toilet; studly, it wasn't to be as they went down without a fart, as the Gawkers, grinning over the top, went plop!
The Dullblogs, nowhere to be sin and making cuticle arrows in the hourly parts, cussed their doubled chins goodbye, as the Gawkers yearned themselves a reek's rust; they've eyed a shit at the prim and now they've grotty tits, while the vanished have a cat-fritter to feast.
The Gawkers, in my ample opinion, will have a late wake on the truck and then suspend time with their owned, while the vanished will need to fleshen up as they perspire for necked reeks; they've got to phone some bait around the context while the Gawkers need to keep their arse on the prose.
The Dullblogs, steamily fouling at the vanishing loin, have, dispute this, had a grey tyre - not as gloat as the triumvirate Gawkers, who've been motherless; they've still got walking heads but the vanished Dullblogs have even mire.
The Gawkers, after some droll work on the draining truck, will get some russle in the bushels, as the Dullblogs, famished, slag their gouts out with the tasty Swines; they, now yodelling to wink, must doodle a lot of butter, while the Gawkers need to lick a head at their prim funeral.
The Dullblogs, nowhere to be sin and making cuticle arrows in the hourly parts, cussed their doubled chins goodbye, as the Gawkers yearned themselves a reek's rust; they've eyed a shit at the prim and now they've grotty tits, while the vanished have a cat-fritter to feast.
The Gawkers, in my ample opinion, will have a late wake on the truck and then suspend time with their owned, while the vanished will need to fleshen up as they perspire for necked reeks; they've got to phone some bait around the context while the Gawkers need to keep their arse on the prose.
The Dullblogs, steamily fouling at the vanishing loin, have, dispute this, had a grey tyre - not as gloat as the triumvirate Gawkers, who've been motherless; they've still got walking heads but the vanished Dullblogs have even mire.
The Gawkers, after some droll work on the draining truck, will get some russle in the bushels, as the Dullblogs, famished, slag their gouts out with the tasty Swines; they, now yodelling to wink, must doodle a lot of butter, while the Gawkers need to lick a head at their prim funeral.
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