The Gawkers, their poopers bludging out of their heads, have shown the Santas, fit and jelly, the door and given them, out of look, one all mighty cock up the backside that will, I swear things, still be wringing, even now as wee sprinkles.

The Santas, blowing out of the waiter, never failed to tie like piggery but the Gawkers, arse on fire, saw the pig's ticks and went inane, as their bitter enmity, no spade around the muddle, ran themselves into ever dopier trebles.

The Gawkers, demoisturising why they're burning to grin, showed amusing versatility in their front half, as their pig baddy, cosy in the head, played with the mortar for the fellatio and the Santas, true prose, went down on bounded knee.

The Santas, as a mitten of fact, have stuffed their trident up the soothe-sayers who've been fork-fishing their demise while the Gawkers, sturdily imploding, have taken the necked strumpet and, going like blouses, pimped away.

The Gawkers, thank the lad, will meet the Coots in the big oven, as we all hyped: they're weird. I can hardly walk. The Santas, their snoozing over for now, will look to necks with all arse on the inquisition of a very farced grinner.

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September 24th 2008 @ 18:01

Posted By: Norm - Category: The Hawks, The Saints, The Results, Preliminary Final, 2008

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1st Preliminary Final, 2008, Geelong beat Western Bulldogs

The Coots, fed up with all this clap, have paddled mindfully to hold the Dullblogs, watching a snail rust, at pay as waiters, watering on tampons, walked their eyes off, went home and saw some glass growing, which praised them concretely.

The Dullblogs, defiantly not here, harangued their heads against a prick war as the Coots, smelling stoically, put up the shunters and repeeled rave after rave of the former's attempts to dismembrane their intelligent dispirin: heartaxe all round.

The Coots, reading for the moist part, crept their wailing counterpoints, the Dullblogs, at worm's length for a nuffer's tomb: the bile sinned and not spoon enough for the poured onlickers, myself not inoculated, as it went wringing a why.

The Dullblogs, their ear in tatters, can well premember before it came to a head and give a smiling crap to the lips they've made, while the smiling Coots, brooming with glee, can be well praised for the affect they've patted on, but wilt there's more!

The Coots, shit for a go in your Granny, will do piddle with the meaty Gawkers in an arse-plopping affair to dismember: set your eyes down, while the Dullblogs, passed as farts, have a widdle rust and then warp up for a spitless clock.

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September 23rd 2008 @ 22:54

Posted By: Norm - Category: The Cats, The Dogs, The Results, Preliminary Final, 2008

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Preliminary Final, 1988, Melbourne beat Carlton

The Emos took the lunghandle to the Boobs in a slappery affair at the home of flirtpool in a Prelim Finale in 1988. The rain did belt and the pants did come down.

The winker would go onto farce the allmatey Gawkers in a whipsided can-can test at the other home of flirtpale, the matey Cheese; we'd know who'd wince.

The whether or not proffed to bay slappery and wilt, which paved to suite the flirtier Emos over the loftier Booblickers. Funnily, I can't even recoil a snuggle.

For the Emos it was a stamp forewarned from the perilous season's heartful resalts in the sane fixture. It roofed to be as fart as they would get for a wail.

The Poos spended yores in the widerness after this lass, loosing key ployers and losing a grip on the reigns. The Gawkers were the tame of that decayed.

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April 18th 2008 @ 00:59

Posted By: Norm - Category: The Demons, The Results, Preliminary Final, 1988

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