Dyslexic cnut

Prances with Wolves.

Jap-Eyed Jacks.

Ringo Bravo.

Butch Assidy and the Bumdance Flid.

3:10 to Pooma.

The Fagnificent Seven.

That’s not the Dog’s fault. What the fuck would you do if a stranger rammed two unsolicited nostrils up your hoop?

I was piss wet through, inappropriate soaked footwear and it was raining. The water-blaster was playing up and I’d smashed the brush thing by running over a stone. As the pressure dropped, old JSP came into my head and I chortled to myself. I’ll be honest, Billy…it was a souless endeavour, but it was still better than being in the same building as her. How can I put this…she’s moved into the Departure Lounge today. I’ll PM you with any developments.

I take it you got an XXXXL bag, you clothes-peg whittling minx? Did you go salty or sweet? Killa hasn’t lost his shit-stirring touch…and no mistake.

Fuckme Ape, this is weird. I was bored today. She’s got the hump so I had the Kärcher out for three hours on the drive and I was thinking about that cunt as the pressure momentarily dropped, thinking ‘no way am I getting the standard 4500psi here’ to myself and giggling away. Mrs C said that I ‘looked like I was enjoying myself!’ Spooky…

Well…that was quick.

Cya. Dickhead.

Brilliant…etc.

At least you’re not going down…well, at least until the Rascal’s loaded.

You’ll feel your own if you call me that again…cunt.

See your PM.

Both. Then amputation. There was a 6’6” woman in a British Rail uniform smiling when I came around too.

You clearly didn’t see the Dnipro gargoyle that the wife put up in our gaff for three months. ‘24 years old and single’ I was told so I had a semi and some interesting dreams for a fortnight until the Commie cuntess arrived. The wife heard me telling a mate on the phone that she must be the only female Ukranian that the Red Army wouldn’t rape. Didn’t speak to me for a week.

I had it worse.

Bumfight at High Noon.

No wonder you’re a cunt, being raised on a diet of bacon masala with chips.

So, you’re telling me that the Mrs Cnut has to wear a hat in the kitchen.

Only right considering how much droning the spud does on here.

Tell me you didn’t swallow, Seamus? What with abortion being illegal over there in Serfland.

Even though you’re a cunt, I wholeheartedly concur with you on this Farrow & Ball bollocks. Our decorator said to Mrs Cnut that he was happy to let her spunk my money on it but Dulux could colour match anything that they make for half the price and ‘ who walks into your recently decorated lounge and says, ‘ooohhh…Elephant’s Breath offset with a Dead Salmon dado rail…I love it!’ They don’t do they? They just say, ‘I like the colours in here.’ Anyway, we used Dulux on his trade account but she had the front door done in F&B’s ‘Card Room Green’ and as far as I’m concerned, the sooner she walks out of it for the last time, the better. Lol and get fucked.