Unperturbed by the sudden inexplicably violent turn the plot had taken, Rotter grabbed Madame Cholets wooden spoon and smacked the clueless luvnlust around the back of the head, advising him to "do keep up, old chap". He then quickly penned a note to the BBC advising them on this defamation of character, (of the Wombles), before performing adhoc abdominal surgery then, finally, turning his attention to the extremely confused Sweetl, erm, "Tiffany".
He lit a cigarette, nodded in her direction and said "Put yer knickers on gal, I'm buying you coffee."
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Fist is a four letter word. So is fist, fist, fist, fist, fist, fist fist, fist, fist, fist, fist, and, well you get the fist-fucking picture....
THE WESTCOUNTRY SHALL RISE AGAIN!
Yay! It's pink!
Don't think.... FEEL!
We're Englishmen, and we came here, to rape your women and drink your beer.
I went back in time and voted for Hitler.
Pouring oil on troubled waters since 2008. Then lighting a fucking match.
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