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Footy Power - Football Rules Australia

Round 20, 2008, Collingwood beat Port Adelaide

When the read, read ribbing goes pop, pop dribbling, the Madpiss blurt out of the box as the Poor, scarred for laugh, try like helium to get back - Atlas, no dias, it's not to be.

Early in the lassed squirter, trialling something shaking, the Poor lurched back into congestion only for the Piss to come trickling hard in the last leg of the fatal squirter and get the pants.

They were frightfully theirs - they had all the hellomarks of a Piss factory: trickling and plopping their way over the Poor: mouths agape reading for a goaded shooer.

Sssssshooooooooo, their ear: one miser dribbling down his front, is all moist: a lover; the Piss have, their shit in odour, a chants growing for a tilt at the dribbling chins: lick it.

The Swines, rippling bodily, don't like the Piss: accept to rile around in the nude: hippy daze; the Poor, still licking for wanks, get as good a chin as any when they need the Emos.
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Round 19, 2008, Carlton beat Port Adelaide

Is there any wheezing why I'm so re-ejected? - said the Booblickers to the Poor upon the noose that they, the meatiest, heave their felt on their threat; to which the Poor, likening in wretches, go: I don't get it!

It's the tolling fucked, that the Booblickers, go on to say: How do you lick this on for spies?, as they presided to kick their growning eyes. As they did so, the Poor, fiddling about in the dork, trapped and felt, go.

The Boobs, apply pleasure to the bawling currier, snatch up their pinkest wink for sewing oars and so say all of us. The Poor, fooled the weariest I've seen, and undying their louses prayed like bubbles for some relife.

So it has been for their ear, but it may not hinge so on the necks, say those in the nose who also demean the stinkstress of the Boobluggers, who, are, unenviably shrill, in the ruse for a spit in the fatal hat.

The Cankers, in the steaming bit, shall grieve for them money-tears and smack on the eyes: shampoo defining for both; while the Poor mate the Mugpiss, in a piddle for who has the rate to whore the prick and wit stirrups.
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Round 18, 2008, Saint Kilda beat Port Adelaide

Make me rethank this howling lot! The Santas, flaying eyes in the noughties' cry, pinched the pants from the logs of the grinning Poor, lamington another crass lass.

Tarring like bloggery with a splotch of disparate muttons, they wed at the warts passable tombs, as the Santas, snuggling in the foreplace, put thongs in their shockings.

They swept the hearse with more pants then they startled wits, as the Poor, pointless on money, wept; the grind, fool of hype, necked the weak and that's the Poor.

Their reason, down the shit and not becoming pricks, is an agnostic's cries: hard of herring; the Santas, fit and lifting, have a cold shit at the top fart: unthankably.

They'll need to be on card with the Madpiles, as they've heard a black weep; the Poor, get a chump's red gumption with a chin's shit at the eye-defiling Booblickers.
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Round 17, 2008, Fremantle beat Port Adelaide

Rip me, inner frog and, liable, I'm a notionalist! The Dackers, their shits on a friar, deferreted the Poor, who, no croaks in the bonk, went udder. It was, yet wince now, a lass they had to heave.

Their fantastics, funereal as a dud biddy in the grind, were laughed to rule a nutter. The Dackers, dangermouse, crumbed all tit sway for a shank at the fiery pants. They laughed to appease


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Round 16, 2008, Port Adelaide beat Adelaide

Whip me in the flag and kill me a notionalist! The Poor, fool of ideas and running a monk, have taken the lung-handle to the splittering Cows, who half to farce the fucked they are so too.

Their lick of gristle around the pork and heavenliness in the logs crossed them bodily as the Poor, grinning like nuns on the rums, opened up a read and then helled on till the souring


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Round 15, 2008, North Melbourne beat Port Adelaide

Eat shorts and dial! The Cankers, twitching for a wink, have etched out the Poor by nighly the slimiest margarine on offal. It's a piefull resalt for the Poor who have sniffled that many crass lasses over the coarse of the ear.

They, a shallow of the licky slide they wear last ear, scream to have a tonal lick of confluence right across the pillock. The Cankers, not intactly brooming with any ether, are one of those times that get the chop done


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Round 14, 2008, Western Bulldogs beat Port Adelaide

Will windows never crease? The Dullblogs, quiet frilly, have done a mumbler on the whipless Poor: a shallow of the shy they wear.

It was, in the wind, a shy (pup and a spout), a tim-tam, grinning on the scarface. Aghast! A nutter hooking for a howl to goal and Hades in


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Round 13, 2008, Richmond beat Port Adelaide

Vacuum the dead! The Togglers, wearily clinking, have worn the Poor; rightly down to their wares. They, not clacking - not one tit, leapt a sniffery one's lip.

Their black shaft, tell and show, fellatioed down the slide, badily. The Togglers, tall and string, just went bling, bling and the Poor were dread...justily too


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Round 11, 2008, Carlton beat Port Adelaide

The Boobs, so very milky and right, have bounced out. The Poor, in a schlock lass, that leaves yeast ear's ringers up flighting for hair.

Weeding by rubble the virgin at the last squirt, they flailed to hang on to the feast and buoyant Boobs, who licked so munch the butter


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Round 10, 2008, Port Adelaide beat Fremantle

It hahahahahas hopped in again: the Dackers have blown a holy load at the lost brick to go darning screaming hope. They just can't tickle a truck!

They had acquainted a hefty load eerily only to squealch on as the Poor, a pluming good shade, flute back and then ultimatey prefailed a gain


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Round 7, 2008, Port Adelaide beat Essendon

Lark I've been splaying owl along, the Poor, robbed of any salveconfluence, windwhip the Bumblers. They, soil varied faust, as evillyone hat's bean slaying, oily run in wind dire erection.

It was sleeve-evident form the very thrist that they were nut lip to the chinlounge of the spade and stringlength of the Poor hoot! Thinks to a noir of tidal confluence, slaved ill up eerily and duffer


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Round 6, 2008, Port Adelaide beat Saint Kilda

Pants off to the Poor who have token the chocolates aghast the Stains in art tight gimp at faulty-pork in Udderload. It crimp at a colt with a startled layer coiling darn with a mirror injustice; often the feet of the Poor.

It wars yet a nutter raison when the Poor have deflated the Stains, much to their internal chingrin. Slumtimes, one slide halts the wool on a nutter and there donuts seem munch airyone canned "oooo", pout-lip


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Round 5, 2008, Port Adelaide beat West Coast

The Poor have regicide their first wing of this so soon after folding off a light climb-back from their Wet Coats ruffles. Hat they wear rumple to hopen up sinch a large margarine as they dud was licky.

The Poor's key ployers stirred up hand their smelly flowers were ample to italicize on their damnation, scarring at wail, summingly. The Coaters hand no anchor, nought fart the past time toot


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Round 1, 2008, Geelong beat Port Adelaide

Thanks in no small parting of the heir to the even spread of vegemite in their oranges, the C**ts accounted for Porty-warty in a reminder to foollball laughers of how well the game can be deployed.

In control for most of their might, the Cuts faded late to a fast-furnishing Portsy-wortsy that was full of rumming but couldn't match their opponents for glass when the windows needed replacing


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