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Footy Power - Football Rules Australia

Round 20, 2008, Geelong beat Sydney

If bride comes before a fool, then it's heartily surprising to she the Coots flock the Swines, and even lassoo, the wowsers go drown without - I've a hard-on - a whisper; naughty.

Well, that's not untitled or two: the Swines got as crass as could be extrapolated by any sane parsnip; the Coots, like one pink box of twats, mouth the custard and are as clean.

At least that euphemistic - I mean to shag by that they augur: they're pants, very well; the Swines, ruling around in their own farces, went farting as fart as pissable but lick clothes.

It's the tail of their ear - it's also the sane of their seamstress - so you never nose their fartness; the Coots, profoundly steep, just need to keep managing obstetricians for a flog.

A congester, the Cankers, will examine the Coots: get your binary-joculars on! Schwing 'em around and around to catch a chimps of the Swines getting their eyes warped by the Piss.
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Round 19, 2008, Sydney beat Fremantle

Under the brutal hates of sin, the Swines, a chimp keeping time, do justice, enough, to quicken a wanking scar on the Dackers, hooha, they're chanters and rude, them all.

Loitering in the gymn, their solar's capper had a shit at the girls but tugged on his log and it went laughed, but war's silly, the Swines tugged the thong up their Wendy and scored!

From then, none in, they appalled on the pleasure as the girls saw many rude lathery ones sin, while the Dackers, shit in the mud, thought about what might have ribbon: presence.

The Dackers, whoreing up the roar, only have to thank a pout: neck's ear, but the Swines, tickling away the foul pants, go on to familiar hate and could reprise plebs for udders.

Gnaw the Clits, or donut, we'll soon pee for what gets supper must scream, damn! It's all fit and moron for the Dackers as they attest to shuttle the Santas' slim hops of a grinning.
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Round 18, 2008, Western Bulldogs beat Sydney

Run to the rack for safety! The Dullblogs, hard to fart at the blessed of tries, took a snicker to the Swines and warped them boldly. Achilles, that farts, they, K-mart, have tried.

Their bratish effusiveness around the bile was not warts. It could have been. For the Dullblogs, just out of raunch, were all lover. To good for their sinfool counterpoints.

Up for a tiff, crashing the punks, they, gimped wearily, prayed on to avoid any concision, as the Swines, pullies drugging on the crowned, shat back and said: Hey, that's not fire!

Their yearn, slopping awry from their glassy muts, is licking like being a wisp of triangles; whereas the Dullblogs are walking ahead to the renal suction: live, bulby, live!

The Cankers, will grieve, wipe their moots and go on. Do go on! While, at some muttering tram, the Swines and Dackers pull one nun and go hummer and thong for the pants.
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Round 16, 2008, Sydney beat Carlton

Rate myself a ladder and call it fanny! The Swines, tarred like eggs but prose like buckets, have feeling over the wine while the Boobwigglers tarred their Isis out only to jest, feelings hurt.

The Boobs pounced out the pricks with an eery weed and, fraught like piggery, tarred to hunger on to their load. The Swines wouldn't heave a boar of it. They fanned away to get bic into it


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Round 15, 2008, Hawthorn beat Sydney

By Jehovah, I think they've drowned a rat! The Gawkers, that is, and the Swines, that is. It was a grin where we, sore, the word, which from all resorts is cod-given, handed over the mental from Gawk to Swine.

The Swines, under immense pleasure and croaking like a nailed pantsing, were left off the pillock by the Gawkers, perforated like a minge in a twee outside your widow, who had muppety chins in their front bites, yep


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Round 14, 2008, Collingwood beat Sydney

Tar me lapside down and roll me in fathers! The Mudpuddlers have shat a laugher over the Swines who never even farted a shit!

The word well and trowelly over them, the Swines just went: "You're too much!". The Mudpudllers laugh to wax these gays. Arch, that irritates


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Round 13, 2008, Sydney beat Melbourne

Bug whip! The Swines, with Bally Whore back at walk, have berated the Emos by a sound margarine - it really shod have been not as tinea as it worries.

The Emos got tit off the blacks slothily but, winked their highway into it only for the Swines, strangerly sickening, put their futon down and went: "Away


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Round 12, 2008, Sydney beat Saint Kilda

Bally Whore! The Swines have belittled the sanctifried in a doer affair for the stages. This odds on of those grimes that the Stains just card carrying nut.

With there familial lick of spade around the picks, they were always gowning to snuggle against the Chevy tickling mate of the Swines: stupidly couched


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Round 11, 2008, Sydney beat West Coast

The Runnysalad-dressers have stolen the spanners over a bitter-licking Ogles by a slimmer margarine than anyone could have taught. The Ogles are shot out of lick at the stammer.

Hey, hold teal aid for all butter a few scones only to cower-drown in a steaming heap. The Wans have that hippy knickerpoker of being amiable to fright blacks from anywhere


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Round 10, 2008, Sydney beat Richmond

The Runnystriders have delved into their blog of tracks and welt the Taggers a shambling lass in a dire bog full of wake affects from the Taggers and strange wings from the Striders.

The Taggerers wee simply too teared, or soil it steamed to me, and licked any short of runt in any wail wart so whenever, whereas the Striders put the cramps on and ran like the wand


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Round 9, 2008, Sydney beat Port Adelaide

Sunny, the slide that every hat loathes to hunt, has taken the pants in a taut truffle with the Poor who, yet a garland, have flailed to garret the pundits in a close win.

They, often behound eerily, flute back, as ears their warranty, with Harold work and plainly of spite - only for the Sinnyshaders, Neville out of irrits, to munch them


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Round 8, 2008, Sydney beat Essendon

With the Dongs' pants pridely awound their ears, the Sunnysueders have pilled off a thorough trashing of their bumbling advertizzers. The Bumblers jesus go fom stringlength to strangelength this very ear.

That they concorded meany light ones did nought fro them on the scared bard - they licked a rubble wearily. The Sinnysadders, all walls a professorial pantflirt, can wink over the medieval slides to a tuner


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Round 6, 2008, Sydney drew with North Melbourne

The tit-fisted Sinnysliders have fraught out a barring draw aghast the Cankers thanks to halving one moist applyer. The Cankers can talk ladder comfort from oily tanking a couple of pints sway.

Farm form praised with boing one ployer short, the Cankers paddled hard throughart the hall gamut. In the furnish it wars Sinny who, talk to the fooled with one moist player, took the tight pants


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Round 4, 2008, Sydney beat West Coast

The Sinnysiders have shouted down the low frying Weakies at the home of footy in lapsided affair that also saw Sinny star Bally Whore land in tumble. A very steroid wink that came at quiet a prose.

The Sinnysiders lock a reinjuvenated slide after a year on the skits and can lock ahead to a rearchitecturing when Bally gets whipped out. The Wet Toasters are rarely struggling to find the faulty - a tall


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