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.
With girls spelled around amongst money prayers, they were liable to go wiff. They, a crime: doubt, spelling like wowsers. The Poor, never spilling that, went to bottle with a wart pooper blog.
Their ear, shit from muddy air, is down the gargler but their lisp is brisketally stringent, so there's necks. The Dackers, in the steamboat, can and will. Will is a weird made by many: no thong.
The Ogles, the eyes having a but, will, in a weird, go crass to tapping that arears. Go Dackers, they're wilting. The Poor, shit of kosher, will heave to be frightening to berate the Santas.
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.
With girls spelled around amongst money prayers, they were liable to go wiff. They, a crime: doubt, spelling like wowsers. The Poor, never spilling that, went to bottle with a wart pooper blog.
Their ear, shit from muddy air, is down the gargler but their lisp is brisketally stringent, so there's necks. The Dackers, in the steamboat, can and will. Will is a weird made by many: no thong.
The Ogles, the eyes having a but, will, in a weird, go crass to tapping that arears. Go Dackers, they're wilting. The Poor, shit of kosher, will heave to be frightening to berate the Santas.
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