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And Now for Something Completely Different...Monty Python Thread v.2


Citizen of the World
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Why is it that these new lurex dancing tights go baggy at the knees after only a couple of evenings' fun. Bring back the old canvas ones I say.

Muddy knees have got me all aquiver.

Muddy knees have got me all aglow.

Muddy knees have sent me for a paper

To a newsagents near here I know.

This is a lingerie shop, sir Ibanez. We've got corsets, stockings, suspender belts, tights, bras, slips, petticoats, knickers, socks and garters. :whipgirl:

Good evening. I'd like to talk to you tonight about the place of the nude in my bed...um...in the history of my bed...of art, I'm sorry. The place of the nude in the history of tart...call-girl...I'm sorry I'll start again...Bum...oh, what a giveaway. The place of the nude in art... Oh, hello there father, er, confessor, professor, your honour, your grace ...

Fine, fine, fine, thank you. Fine, thank you. No more sherry for me don't you know. Warner House beat Badger House for the Second Cuppa, remarkable. We had to put most of the second form to sleep. No padre. Bad business. They were beginning to play with themselves.

Oh citizen, are you going to do anything or are you just going to show me films all evening?

Well ... let's just ... take a ... look at this new film...clip.

I SEE THAT YOU HAVE A CABBAGE. :eh: IT CERTAINLY IS A LOVELY DAY ALL RIGHT.

Yes, they've done wonders with it. You know this used to be one of the most swampy disease infested areas of the whole jungle, and they've turned it into this smashing little restaurant.

Oh, er by the way - got a bit of a dirty fork, could you ... er.. get me another one?

Oh, we don't half talk posh Citizen, don't we? I suppose you say " ehnvelope" and "larngerie" and "sarndwiches on the settee." :nya nya:

'Oh, oh, no more buttered scones for me, mater. I'm off to play the grand piano'. 'Pardon me while I fly my aeroplane.' Now get on the table!

No... you don't go as far as the table. You go into the room, right?... on your right is the door to the orangery, straight ahead of you is the door to the library, and to your left is the sideboard.

Ibanez arrives in the entrance hall here, and is carried along the corridor on a conveyer belt in extreme comfort and past murals depicting Mediterranean scenes, towards the rotating knives. :scared:

With well practiced skill, blackhawkrush skins the mosquito. The wings of a fully grown male mosquito can in fact fetch anything up to point eight of a penny on the open market. The long day is over and it's back to base camp for a night's rest. Here, surrounded by their trophies, Citizen and blackhawkrush prepare for a much tougher ordeal - a moth hunt.
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Why is it that these new lurex dancing tights go baggy at the knees after only a couple of evenings' fun. Bring back the old canvas ones I say.

Muddy knees have got me all aquiver.

Muddy knees have got me all aglow.

Muddy knees have sent me for a paper

To a newsagents near here I know.

This is a lingerie shop, sir Ibanez. We've got corsets, stockings, suspender belts, tights, bras, slips, petticoats, knickers, socks and garters. :whipgirl:

Good evening. I'd like to talk to you tonight about the place of the nude in my bed...um...in the history of my bed...of art, I'm sorry. The place of the nude in the history of tart...call-girl...I'm sorry I'll start again...Bum...oh, what a giveaway. The place of the nude in art... Oh, hello there father, er, confessor, professor, your honour, your grace ...

Fine, fine, fine, thank you. Fine, thank you. No more sherry for me don't you know. Warner House beat Badger House for the Second Cuppa, remarkable. We had to put most of the second form to sleep. No padre. Bad business. They were beginning to play with themselves.

Oh citizen, are you going to do anything or are you just going to show me films all evening?

Well ... let's just ... take a ... look at this new film...clip.

I SEE THAT YOU HAVE A CABBAGE. :eh: IT CERTAINLY IS A LOVELY DAY ALL RIGHT.

Yes, they've done wonders with it. You know this used to be one of the most swampy disease infested areas of the whole jungle, and they've turned it into this smashing little restaurant.

Oh, er by the way - got a bit of a dirty fork, could you ... er.. get me another one?

Oh, we don't half talk posh Citizen, don't we? I suppose you say " ehnvelope" and "larngerie" and "sarndwiches on the settee." :nya nya:

'Oh, oh, no more buttered scones for me, mater. I'm off to play the grand piano'. 'Pardon me while I fly my aeroplane.' Now get on the table!

No... you don't go as far as the table. You go into the room, right?... on your right is the door to the orangery, straight ahead of you is the door to the library, and to your left is the sideboard.

Ibanez arrives in the entrance hall here, and is carried along the corridor on a conveyer belt in extreme comfort and past murals depicting Mediterranean scenes, towards the rotating knives. :scared:

With well practiced skill, blackhawkrush skins the mosquito. The wings of a fully grown male mosquito can in fact fetch anything up to point eight of a penny on the open market. The long day is over and it's back to base camp for a night's rest. Here, surrounded by their trophies, Citizen and blackhawkrush prepare for a much tougher ordeal - a moth hunt.

Yes, once again American and Canadian defense proves its effectiveness against international mothism. :fistbump:
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Why is it that these new lurex dancing tights go baggy at the knees after only a couple of evenings' fun. Bring back the old canvas ones I say.

Muddy knees have got me all aquiver.

Muddy knees have got me all aglow.

Muddy knees have sent me for a paper

To a newsagents near here I know.

This is a lingerie shop, sir Ibanez. We've got corsets, stockings, suspender belts, tights, bras, slips, petticoats, knickers, socks and garters. :whipgirl:

Good evening. I'd like to talk to you tonight about the place of the nude in my bed...um...in the history of my bed...of art, I'm sorry. The place of the nude in the history of tart...call-girl...I'm sorry I'll start again...Bum...oh, what a giveaway. The place of the nude in art... Oh, hello there father, er, confessor, professor, your honour, your grace ...

Fine, fine, fine, thank you. Fine, thank you. No more sherry for me don't you know. Warner House beat Badger House for the Second Cuppa, remarkable. We had to put most of the second form to sleep. No padre. Bad business. They were beginning to play with themselves.

Oh citizen, are you going to do anything or are you just going to show me films all evening?

Well ... let's just ... take a ... look at this new film...clip.

I SEE THAT YOU HAVE A CABBAGE. :eh: IT CERTAINLY IS A LOVELY DAY ALL RIGHT.

Yes, they've done wonders with it. You know this used to be one of the most swampy disease infested areas of the whole jungle, and they've turned it into this smashing little restaurant.

Oh, er by the way - got a bit of a dirty fork, could you ... er.. get me another one?

Oh, we don't half talk posh Citizen, don't we? I suppose you say " ehnvelope" and "larngerie" and "sarndwiches on the settee." :nya nya:

'Oh, oh, no more buttered scones for me, mater. I'm off to play the grand piano'. 'Pardon me while I fly my aeroplane.' Now get on the table!

No... you don't go as far as the table. You go into the room, right?... on your right is the door to the orangery, straight ahead of you is the door to the library, and to your left is the sideboard.

Ibanez arrives in the entrance hall here, and is carried along the corridor on a conveyer belt in extreme comfort and past murals depicting Mediterranean scenes, towards the rotating knives. :scared:

With well practiced skill, blackhawkrush skins the mosquito. The wings of a fully grown male mosquito can in fact fetch anything up to point eight of a penny on the open market. The long day is over and it's back to base camp for a night's rest. Here, surrounded by their trophies, Citizen and blackhawkrush prepare for a much tougher ordeal - a moth hunt.

Yes, once again American and Canadian defense proves its effectiveness against international mothism. :fistbump:

Better than staying at home, isn't this, sir? Eh? I mean, at home, if you kill someone, they arrest you. Here, they give you a gun and show you what to do, sir.
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Why is it that these new lurex dancing tights go baggy at the knees after only a couple of evenings' fun. Bring back the old canvas ones I say.

Muddy knees have got me all aquiver.

Muddy knees have got me all aglow.

Muddy knees have sent me for a paper

To a newsagents near here I know.

This is a lingerie shop, sir Ibanez. We've got corsets, stockings, suspender belts, tights, bras, slips, petticoats, knickers, socks and garters. :whipgirl:

Good evening. I'd like to talk to you tonight about the place of the nude in my bed...um...in the history of my bed...of art, I'm sorry. The place of the nude in the history of tart...call-girl...I'm sorry I'll start again...Bum...oh, what a giveaway. The place of the nude in art... Oh, hello there father, er, confessor, professor, your honour, your grace ...

Fine, fine, fine, thank you. Fine, thank you. No more sherry for me don't you know. Warner House beat Badger House for the Second Cuppa, remarkable. We had to put most of the second form to sleep. No padre. Bad business. They were beginning to play with themselves.

Oh citizen, are you going to do anything or are you just going to show me films all evening?

Well ... let's just ... take a ... look at this new film...clip.

I SEE THAT YOU HAVE A CABBAGE. :eh: IT CERTAINLY IS A LOVELY DAY ALL RIGHT.

Yes, they've done wonders with it. You know this used to be one of the most swampy disease infested areas of the whole jungle, and they've turned it into this smashing little restaurant.

Oh, er by the way - got a bit of a dirty fork, could you ... er.. get me another one?

Oh, we don't half talk posh Citizen, don't we? I suppose you say " ehnvelope" and "larngerie" and "sarndwiches on the settee." :nya nya:

'Oh, oh, no more buttered scones for me, mater. I'm off to play the grand piano'. 'Pardon me while I fly my aeroplane.' Now get on the table!

No... you don't go as far as the table. You go into the room, right?... on your right is the door to the orangery, straight ahead of you is the door to the library, and to your left is the sideboard.

Ibanez arrives in the entrance hall here, and is carried along the corridor on a conveyer belt in extreme comfort and past murals depicting Mediterranean scenes, towards the rotating knives. :scared:

With well practiced skill, blackhawkrush skins the mosquito. The wings of a fully grown male mosquito can in fact fetch anything up to point eight of a penny on the open market. The long day is over and it's back to base camp for a night's rest. Here, surrounded by their trophies, Citizen and blackhawkrush prepare for a much tougher ordeal - a moth hunt.

Yes, once again American and Canadian defense proves its effectiveness against international mothism. :fistbump:

Better than staying at home, isn't this, sir? Eh? I mean, at home, if you kill someone, they arrest you. Here, they give you a gun and show you what to do, sir.

...getting out there with a gun, slaughtering a few of God's creatures :bang bang: :chickendance: that was the life.
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Why is it that these new lurex dancing tights go baggy at the knees after only a couple of evenings' fun. Bring back the old canvas ones I say.

Muddy knees have got me all aquiver.

Muddy knees have got me all aglow.

Muddy knees have sent me for a paper

To a newsagents near here I know.

This is a lingerie shop, sir Ibanez. We've got corsets, stockings, suspender belts, tights, bras, slips, petticoats, knickers, socks and garters. :whipgirl:

Good evening. I'd like to talk to you tonight about the place of the nude in my bed...um...in the history of my bed...of art, I'm sorry. The place of the nude in the history of tart...call-girl...I'm sorry I'll start again...Bum...oh, what a giveaway. The place of the nude in art... Oh, hello there father, er, confessor, professor, your honour, your grace ...

Fine, fine, fine, thank you. Fine, thank you. No more sherry for me don't you know. Warner House beat Badger House for the Second Cuppa, remarkable. We had to put most of the second form to sleep. No padre. Bad business. They were beginning to play with themselves.

Oh citizen, are you going to do anything or are you just going to show me films all evening?

Well ... let's just ... take a ... look at this new film...clip.

I SEE THAT YOU HAVE A CABBAGE. :eh: IT CERTAINLY IS A LOVELY DAY ALL RIGHT.

Yes, they've done wonders with it. You know this used to be one of the most swampy disease infested areas of the whole jungle, and they've turned it into this smashing little restaurant.

Oh, er by the way - got a bit of a dirty fork, could you ... er.. get me another one?

Oh, we don't half talk posh Citizen, don't we? I suppose you say " ehnvelope" and "larngerie" and "sarndwiches on the settee." :nya nya:

'Oh, oh, no more buttered scones for me, mater. I'm off to play the grand piano'. 'Pardon me while I fly my aeroplane.' Now get on the table!

No... you don't go as far as the table. You go into the room, right?... on your right is the door to the orangery, straight ahead of you is the door to the library, and to your left is the sideboard.

Ibanez arrives in the entrance hall here, and is carried along the corridor on a conveyer belt in extreme comfort and past murals depicting Mediterranean scenes, towards the rotating knives. :scared:

With well practiced skill, blackhawkrush skins the mosquito. The wings of a fully grown male mosquito can in fact fetch anything up to point eight of a penny on the open market. The long day is over and it's back to base camp for a night's rest. Here, surrounded by their trophies, Citizen and blackhawkrush prepare for a much tougher ordeal - a moth hunt.

Yes, once again American and Canadian defense proves its effectiveness against international mothism. :fistbump:

Better than staying at home, isn't this, sir? Eh? I mean, at home, if you kill someone, they arrest you. Here, they give you a gun and show you what to do, sir.

...getting out there with a gun, slaughtering a few of God's creatures :bang bang: :chickendance: that was the life.

Yes, I agree. I mean, if you're going to go straight you might as well be a vicar or something.
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Why is it that these new lurex dancing tights go baggy at the knees after only a couple of evenings' fun. Bring back the old canvas ones I say.

Muddy knees have got me all aquiver.

Muddy knees have got me all aglow.

Muddy knees have sent me for a paper

To a newsagents near here I know.

This is a lingerie shop, sir Ibanez. We've got corsets, stockings, suspender belts, tights, bras, slips, petticoats, knickers, socks and garters. :whipgirl:

Good evening. I'd like to talk to you tonight about the place of the nude in my bed...um...in the history of my bed...of art, I'm sorry. The place of the nude in the history of tart...call-girl...I'm sorry I'll start again...Bum...oh, what a giveaway. The place of the nude in art... Oh, hello there father, er, confessor, professor, your honour, your grace ...

Fine, fine, fine, thank you. Fine, thank you. No more sherry for me don't you know. Warner House beat Badger House for the Second Cuppa, remarkable. We had to put most of the second form to sleep. No padre. Bad business. They were beginning to play with themselves.

Oh citizen, are you going to do anything or are you just going to show me films all evening?

Well ... let's just ... take a ... look at this new film...clip.

I SEE THAT YOU HAVE A CABBAGE. :eh: IT CERTAINLY IS A LOVELY DAY ALL RIGHT.

Yes, they've done wonders with it. You know this used to be one of the most swampy disease infested areas of the whole jungle, and they've turned it into this smashing little restaurant.

Oh, er by the way - got a bit of a dirty fork, could you ... er.. get me another one?

Oh, we don't half talk posh Citizen, don't we? I suppose you say " ehnvelope" and "larngerie" and "sarndwiches on the settee." :nya nya:

'Oh, oh, no more buttered scones for me, mater. I'm off to play the grand piano'. 'Pardon me while I fly my aeroplane.' Now get on the table!

No... you don't go as far as the table. You go into the room, right?... on your right is the door to the orangery, straight ahead of you is the door to the library, and to your left is the sideboard.

Ibanez arrives in the entrance hall here, and is carried along the corridor on a conveyer belt in extreme comfort and past murals depicting Mediterranean scenes, towards the rotating knives. :scared:

With well practiced skill, blackhawkrush skins the mosquito. The wings of a fully grown male mosquito can in fact fetch anything up to point eight of a penny on the open market. The long day is over and it's back to base camp for a night's rest. Here, surrounded by their trophies, Citizen and blackhawkrush prepare for a much tougher ordeal - a moth hunt.

Yes, once again American and Canadian defense proves its effectiveness against international mothism. :fistbump:

Better than staying at home, isn't this, sir? Eh? I mean, at home, if you kill someone, they arrest you. Here, they give you a gun and show you what to do, sir.

...getting out there with a gun, slaughtering a few of God's creatures :bang bang: :chickendance: that was the life.

Yes, I agree. I mean, if you're going to go straight you might as well be a vicar or something.

No, absolutely, absolutely, that's what I always say. But you'd be amazed at the number of people who really don't want me. I mean, even doing this... :moon:
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Why is it that these new lurex dancing tights go baggy at the knees after only a couple of evenings' fun. Bring back the old canvas ones I say.

Muddy knees have got me all aquiver.

Muddy knees have got me all aglow.

Muddy knees have sent me for a paper

To a newsagents near here I know.

This is a lingerie shop, sir Ibanez. We've got corsets, stockings, suspender belts, tights, bras, slips, petticoats, knickers, socks and garters. :whipgirl:

Good evening. I'd like to talk to you tonight about the place of the nude in my bed...um...in the history of my bed...of art, I'm sorry. The place of the nude in the history of tart...call-girl...I'm sorry I'll start again...Bum...oh, what a giveaway. The place of the nude in art... Oh, hello there father, er, confessor, professor, your honour, your grace ...

Fine, fine, fine, thank you. Fine, thank you. No more sherry for me don't you know. Warner House beat Badger House for the Second Cuppa, remarkable. We had to put most of the second form to sleep. No padre. Bad business. They were beginning to play with themselves.

Oh citizen, are you going to do anything or are you just going to show me films all evening?

Well ... let's just ... take a ... look at this new film...clip.

I SEE THAT YOU HAVE A CABBAGE. :eh: IT CERTAINLY IS A LOVELY DAY ALL RIGHT.

Yes, they've done wonders with it. You know this used to be one of the most swampy disease infested areas of the whole jungle, and they've turned it into this smashing little restaurant.

Oh, er by the way - got a bit of a dirty fork, could you ... er.. get me another one?

Oh, we don't half talk posh Citizen, don't we? I suppose you say " ehnvelope" and "larngerie" and "sarndwiches on the settee." :nya nya:

'Oh, oh, no more buttered scones for me, mater. I'm off to play the grand piano'. 'Pardon me while I fly my aeroplane.' Now get on the table!

No... you don't go as far as the table. You go into the room, right?... on your right is the door to the orangery, straight ahead of you is the door to the library, and to your left is the sideboard.

Ibanez arrives in the entrance hall here, and is carried along the corridor on a conveyer belt in extreme comfort and past murals depicting Mediterranean scenes, towards the rotating knives. :scared:

With well practiced skill, blackhawkrush skins the mosquito. The wings of a fully grown male mosquito can in fact fetch anything up to point eight of a penny on the open market. The long day is over and it's back to base camp for a night's rest. Here, surrounded by their trophies, Citizen and blackhawkrush prepare for a much tougher ordeal - a moth hunt.

Yes, once again American and Canadian defense proves its effectiveness against international mothism. :fistbump:

Better than staying at home, isn't this, sir? Eh? I mean, at home, if you kill someone, they arrest you. Here, they give you a gun and show you what to do, sir.

...getting out there with a gun, slaughtering a few of God's creatures :bang bang: :chickendance: that was the life.

Yes, I agree. I mean, if you're going to go straight you might as well be a vicar or something.

No, absolutely, absolutely, that's what I always say. But you'd be amazed at the number of people who really don't want me. I mean, even doing this... :moon:

Now then blackhawkrush, you've been with us for ten years, and your work in the Monty Python threads has been immaculate No no - please don't say anything. As I say, your work has been beyond reproach, but unfortunately the effect you have on your colleagues has undermined the competence ... has undermined the competence of this website to such a point that I'm afraid that I've got no option but to sack you.
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I'll get you for that, Citizen! I'll get you if I have to travel to the four corners of the earth!

No chance, English bed-wetting types. I burst my pimples at you and call your door-opening request a silly thing, you tiny-brained wipers of other people's bottoms!

Gervaise Brook-Ibanez is in the Guards, and his father uses him as a wastepaper basket. :bitchslap:
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I'll get you for that, Citizen! I'll get you if I have to travel to the four corners of the earth!

No chance, English bed-wetting types. I burst my pimples at you and call your door-opening request a silly thing, you tiny-brained wipers of other people's bottoms!

Gervaise Brook-Ibanez is in the Guards, and his father uses him as a wastepaper basket. :bitchslap:

His eyes just closed, and he fell into the wastepaper basket. I've covered him with a copy of the 'Charlie George Football Book'.
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I'll get you for that, Citizen! I'll get you if I have to travel to the four corners of the earth!

No chance, English bed-wetting types. I burst my pimples at you and call your door-opening request a silly thing, you tiny-brained wipers of other people's bottoms!

Gervaise Brook-Ibanez is in the Guards, and his father uses him as a wastepaper basket. :bitchslap:

His eyes just closed, and he fell into the wastepaper basket. I've covered him with a copy of the 'Charlie George Football Book'.

No, he's not completely dead. No. But he's not at all well. :rose: :blink: :rose:
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I'll get you for that, Citizen! I'll get you if I have to travel to the four corners of the earth!

No chance, English bed-wetting types. I burst my pimples at you and call your door-opening request a silly thing, you tiny-brained wipers of other people's bottoms!

Gervaise Brook-Ibanez is in the Guards, and his father uses him as a wastepaper basket. :bitchslap:

His eyes just closed, and he fell into the wastepaper basket. I've covered him with a copy of the 'Charlie George Football Book'.

No, he's not completely dead. No. But he's not at all well. :rose: :blink: :rose:

He's probably pining for the fjords.
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I'll get you for that, Citizen! I'll get you if I have to travel to the four corners of the earth!

No chance, English bed-wetting types. I burst my pimples at you and call your door-opening request a silly thing, you tiny-brained wipers of other people's bottoms!

Gervaise Brook-Ibanez is in the Guards, and his father uses him as a wastepaper basket. :bitchslap:

His eyes just closed, and he fell into the wastepaper basket. I've covered him with a copy of the 'Charlie George Football Book'.

No, he's not completely dead. No. But he's not at all well. :rose: :blink: :rose:

He's probably pining for the fjords.

...of which there are a lot in Norway. :codger:
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I'll get you for that, Citizen! I'll get you if I have to travel to the four corners of the earth!

No chance, English bed-wetting types. I burst my pimples at you and call your door-opening request a silly thing, you tiny-brained wipers of other people's bottoms!

Gervaise Brook-Ibanez is in the Guards, and his father uses him as a wastepaper basket. :bitchslap:

His eyes just closed, and he fell into the wastepaper basket. I've covered him with a copy of the 'Charlie George Football Book'.

No, he's not completely dead. No. But he's not at all well. :rose: :blink: :rose:

He's probably pining for the fjords.

...of which there are a lot in Norway. :codger:

and girls with massive knockers
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I'll get you for that, Citizen! I'll get you if I have to travel to the four corners of the earth!

No chance, English bed-wetting types. I burst my pimples at you and call your door-opening request a silly thing, you tiny-brained wipers of other people's bottoms!

Gervaise Brook-Ibanez is in the Guards, and his father uses him as a wastepaper basket. :bitchslap:

His eyes just closed, and he fell into the wastepaper basket. I've covered him with a copy of the 'Charlie George Football Book'.

No, he's not completely dead. No. But he's not at all well. :rose: :blink: :rose:

He's probably pining for the fjords.

...of which there are a lot in Norway. :codger:

and girls with massive knockers

Oh yes, certainly, yes indeed, I find the grounds delightful, and the servants most attentive and particularly the little serving maid with the great big knockers, and when she gets going...
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I'll get you for that, Citizen! I'll get you if I have to travel to the four corners of the earth!

No chance, English bed-wetting types. I burst my pimples at you and call your door-opening request a silly thing, you tiny-brained wipers of other people's bottoms!

Gervaise Brook-Ibanez is in the Guards, and his father uses him as a wastepaper basket. :bitchslap:

His eyes just closed, and he fell into the wastepaper basket. I've covered him with a copy of the 'Charlie George Football Book'.

No, he's not completely dead. No. But he's not at all well. :rose: :blink: :rose:

He's probably pining for the fjords.

...of which there are a lot in Norway. :codger:

and girls with massive knockers

Oh yes, certainly, yes indeed, I find the grounds delightful, and the servants most attentive and particularly the little serving maid with the great big knockers, and when she gets going...

Now come on, come on, there she is, she's all ready for it. She's a real stunner, she's got great big tits, she's really well stacked and you've got her legs up against the mantelpiece.
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I'll get you for that, Citizen! I'll get you if I have to travel to the four corners of the earth!

No chance, English bed-wetting types. I burst my pimples at you and call your door-opening request a silly thing, you tiny-brained wipers of other people's bottoms!

Gervaise Brook-Ibanez is in the Guards, and his father uses him as a wastepaper basket. :bitchslap:

His eyes just closed, and he fell into the wastepaper basket. I've covered him with a copy of the 'Charlie George Football Book'.

No, he's not completely dead. No. But he's not at all well. :rose: :blink: :rose:

He's probably pining for the fjords.

...of which there are a lot in Norway. :codger:

and girls with massive knockers

Oh yes, certainly, yes indeed, I find the grounds delightful, and the servants most attentive and particularly the little serving maid with the great big knockers, and when she gets going...

Now come on, come on, there she is, she's all ready for it. She's a real stunner, she's got great big tits, she's really well stacked and you've got her legs up against the mantelpiece.

We're supposed to be French, aren't we? :drool:
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I'll get you for that, Citizen! I'll get you if I have to travel to the four corners of the earth!

No chance, English bed-wetting types. I burst my pimples at you and call your door-opening request a silly thing, you tiny-brained wipers of other people's bottoms!

Gervaise Brook-Ibanez is in the Guards, and his father uses him as a wastepaper basket. :bitchslap:

His eyes just closed, and he fell into the wastepaper basket. I've covered him with a copy of the 'Charlie George Football Book'.

No, he's not completely dead. No. But he's not at all well. :rose: :blink: :rose:

He's probably pining for the fjords.

...of which there are a lot in Norway. :codger:

and girls with massive knockers

Oh yes, certainly, yes indeed, I find the grounds delightful, and the servants most attentive and particularly the little serving maid with the great big knockers, and when she gets going...

Now come on, come on, there she is, she's all ready for it. She's a real stunner, she's got great big tits, she's really well stacked and you've got her legs up against the mantelpiece.

We're supposed to be French, aren't we? :drool:

Oh yes I like them. I mean, they think well don't they? I mean, be fair - Pascal.
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I'll get you for that, Citizen! I'll get you if I have to travel to the four corners of the earth!

No chance, English bed-wetting types. I burst my pimples at you and call your door-opening request a silly thing, you tiny-brained wipers of other people's bottoms!

Gervaise Brook-Ibanez is in the Guards, and his father uses him as a wastepaper basket. :bitchslap:

His eyes just closed, and he fell into the wastepaper basket. I've covered him with a copy of the 'Charlie George Football Book'.

No, he's not completely dead. No. But he's not at all well. :rose: :blink: :rose:

He's probably pining for the fjords.

...of which there are a lot in Norway. :codger:

and girls with massive knockers

Oh yes, certainly, yes indeed, I find the grounds delightful, and the servants most attentive and particularly the little serving maid with the great big knockers, and when she gets going...

Now come on, come on, there she is, she's all ready for it. She's a real stunner, she's got great big tits, she's really well stacked and you've got her legs up against the mantelpiece.

We're supposed to be French, aren't we? :drool:

Oh yes I like them. I mean, they think well don't they? I mean, be fair - Pascal.

Oh, thank you, Ibanez. Hallo. Paris 621036 please and make it snappy, buster... Hallo? Hello Mrs Sartre. It's Beulagh Premise here. Oh, pardon, c'est Beulagh Premise ici, oui, oui, dans Ibeezer. Oui, we met... nous nous recontrons au Hotel Miramar. Oui, à la barbeque, c'est vrai.
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I'll get you for that, Citizen! I'll get you if I have to travel to the four corners of the earth!

No chance, English bed-wetting types. I burst my pimples at you and call your door-opening request a silly thing, you tiny-brained wipers of other people's bottoms!

Gervaise Brook-Ibanez is in the Guards, and his father uses him as a wastepaper basket. :bitchslap:

His eyes just closed, and he fell into the wastepaper basket. I've covered him with a copy of the 'Charlie George Football Book'.

No, he's not completely dead. No. But he's not at all well. :rose: :blink: :rose:

He's probably pining for the fjords.

...of which there are a lot in Norway. :codger:

and girls with massive knockers

Oh yes, certainly, yes indeed, I find the grounds delightful, and the servants most attentive and particularly the little serving maid with the great big knockers, and when she gets going...

Now come on, come on, there she is, she's all ready for it. She's a real stunner, she's got great big tits, she's really well stacked and you've got her legs up against the mantelpiece.

We're supposed to be French, aren't we? :drool:

Oh yes I like them. I mean, they think well don't they? I mean, be fair - Pascal.

Oh, thank you, Ibanez. Hallo. Paris 621036 please and make it snappy, buster... Hallo? Hello Mrs Sartre. It's Beulagh Premise here. Oh, pardon, c'est Beulagh Premise ici, oui, oui, dans Ibeezer. Oui, we met... nous nous recontrons au Hotel Miramar. Oui, à la barbeque, c'est vrai.

Don't put us on the barbecue, or simmer us in stock. Don't braise or bake or boil us, or stir-fry us in a wok.
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I'll get you for that, Citizen! I'll get you if I have to travel to the four corners of the earth!

No chance, English bed-wetting types. I burst my pimples at you and call your door-opening request a silly thing, you tiny-brained wipers of other people's bottoms!

Gervaise Brook-Ibanez is in the Guards, and his father uses him as a wastepaper basket. :bitchslap:

His eyes just closed, and he fell into the wastepaper basket. I've covered him with a copy of the 'Charlie George Football Book'.

No, he's not completely dead. No. But he's not at all well. :rose: :blink: :rose:

He's probably pining for the fjords.

...of which there are a lot in Norway. :codger:

and girls with massive knockers

Oh yes, certainly, yes indeed, I find the grounds delightful, and the servants most attentive and particularly the little serving maid with the great big knockers, and when she gets going...

Now come on, come on, there she is, she's all ready for it. She's a real stunner, she's got great big tits, she's really well stacked and you've got her legs up against the mantelpiece.

We're supposed to be French, aren't we? :drool:

Oh yes I like them. I mean, they think well don't they? I mean, be fair - Pascal.

Oh, thank you, Ibanez. Hallo. Paris 621036 please and make it snappy, buster... Hallo? Hello Mrs Sartre. It's Beulagh Premise here. Oh, pardon, c'est Beulagh Premise ici, oui, oui, dans Ibeezer. Oui, we met... nous nous recontrons au Hotel Miramar. Oui, à la barbeque, c'est vrai.

Don't put us on the barbecue, or simmer us in stock. Don't braise or bake or boil us, or stir-fry us in a wok.

You can't eat that raw! :wtf:
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I'll get you for that, Citizen! I'll get you if I have to travel to the four corners of the earth!

No chance, English bed-wetting types. I burst my pimples at you and call your door-opening request a silly thing, you tiny-brained wipers of other people's bottoms!

Gervaise Brook-Ibanez is in the Guards, and his father uses him as a wastepaper basket. :bitchslap:

His eyes just closed, and he fell into the wastepaper basket. I've covered him with a copy of the 'Charlie George Football Book'.

No, he's not completely dead. No. But he's not at all well. :rose: :blink: :rose:

He's probably pining for the fjords.

...of which there are a lot in Norway. :codger:

and girls with massive knockers

Oh yes, certainly, yes indeed, I find the grounds delightful, and the servants most attentive and particularly the little serving maid with the great big knockers, and when she gets going...

Now come on, come on, there she is, she's all ready for it. She's a real stunner, she's got great big tits, she's really well stacked and you've got her legs up against the mantelpiece.

We're supposed to be French, aren't we? :drool:

Oh yes I like them. I mean, they think well don't they? I mean, be fair - Pascal.

Oh, thank you, Ibanez. Hallo. Paris 621036 please and make it snappy, buster... Hallo? Hello Mrs Sartre. It's Beulagh Premise here. Oh, pardon, c'est Beulagh Premise ici, oui, oui, dans Ibeezer. Oui, we met... nous nous recontrons au Hotel Miramar. Oui, à la barbeque, c'est vrai.

Don't put us on the barbecue, or simmer us in stock. Don't braise or bake or boil us, or stir-fry us in a wok.

You can't eat that raw! :wtf:

Er ... Yeah. Not raw. Cooked. Yes, roasted with a few french fries, broccoli, horseradish sauce ...
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I'll get you for that, Citizen! I'll get you if I have to travel to the four corners of the earth!

No chance, English bed-wetting types. I burst my pimples at you and call your door-opening request a silly thing, you tiny-brained wipers of other people's bottoms!

Gervaise Brook-Ibanez is in the Guards, and his father uses him as a wastepaper basket. :bitchslap:

His eyes just closed, and he fell into the wastepaper basket. I've covered him with a copy of the 'Charlie George Football Book'.

No, he's not completely dead. No. But he's not at all well. :rose: :blink: :rose:

He's probably pining for the fjords.

...of which there are a lot in Norway. :codger:

and girls with massive knockers

Oh yes, certainly, yes indeed, I find the grounds delightful, and the servants most attentive and particularly the little serving maid with the great big knockers, and when she gets going...

Now come on, come on, there she is, she's all ready for it. She's a real stunner, she's got great big tits, she's really well stacked and you've got her legs up against the mantelpiece.

We're supposed to be French, aren't we? :drool:

Oh yes I like them. I mean, they think well don't they? I mean, be fair - Pascal.

Oh, thank you, Ibanez. Hallo. Paris 621036 please and make it snappy, buster... Hallo? Hello Mrs Sartre. It's Beulagh Premise here. Oh, pardon, c'est Beulagh Premise ici, oui, oui, dans Ibeezer. Oui, we met... nous nous recontrons au Hotel Miramar. Oui, à la barbeque, c'est vrai.

Don't put us on the barbecue, or simmer us in stock. Don't braise or bake or boil us, or stir-fry us in a wok.

You can't eat that raw! :wtf:

Er ... Yeah. Not raw. Cooked. Yes, roasted with a few french fries, broccoli, horseradish sauce ...

I may not know much about art, but I know what I like. :Alex: :drool: :geddy:
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