It is my firm belief that you spend too much time wearing women's knickers. Not that they'd be men's knickers or anything. So just knickers then. Glad we have that cleared up.
You and those politicians are all the same, with your mickeys in everyone's business. Good old D. Norris, fair play to him with his mickey in everyone's Áras (not bras as the T9 dictionary would have us believe, O no!), and Nordy Mary Mother of Erin with her Áras and all, you know the way. Whatever you like to do in your spare time, not that I spend mine putting crisp packets over me cock. Well, that's disgusting, so don't be using plastic bags either, especially not the child-friendly ones, which are very child-friendly considering that you'll likely end up Up-the-Duff regardless, if God-is-with-us.
Daniel O'Donnell is live on TGCeathair tomorrow, not that I give a rat's mickey or anything.
It's all about how one reacts to the world and its subjects that surround on a every-second-of-the-day basis. That's the message that I'd like the Fallopians to take this St. Steven's Day (Stevenzis Day [Ireland] or Boxing Day [Brits]). The reaction that is given to a situation is vital to how it unravels, disentangles and straightens out (hopefully without anyone getting shot). For example, if one was kicked out of a public house with no plausible reason given, one would have a choice of reactions. One or more of these will get one killed with others having differing degrees of pain and suffering. Few will keep all body parts intact. Point is that choice of reaction determines the next stage in events.
But, I hear you say, reactions to events are immediate, unpredictable, unforeseeable, temperamental and cannot be helped. Well, my answer to this one is that you're wrong, incorrect and mistake. One always has choices. I'm prone to making the wrong choices in reaction choices. But, I have choices, I just make bad ones. So, therefore, I'm right, shag.
Take one look and walk away. That's alright with me. I wish that I could sing that.
Yes, back to a guiding, spiritually inspiring, half-time pep-talk I will go. Don't be taking part in any of those big drunken orgies, ok? If that's not good, well, I really can't do much about that now can I? Hmmmm!? I'm hardly a fuckin' authority to meddle with you am I now? But, don't be doing those things; they're bad for you I hear, mentally and in the arena of the ball games too.
I don't know who'd have the physical ability to function as a human without the use of a thesaurus. They're just so useful. Not as an alternative mickey protector like a crisp bag. It also won't vacuum your carpets for you. I can be quite confident in saying that lots of interesting people have used a thesaurus. The long fellow, Mr. Éamon deValera, more than likely consulted one in his days on this earth.
We're all terminally ill, we're infected with the disease of life. Congratulations, it's a baby boy. I'm sorry he's only got, on average, seventy-six years to live.
J. Edward Denwick says:
Incest.
From The Cradle says:
Puke??
J. Edward Denwick says:
That's when your sister fiddles your mickey
From The Cradle says:
that's when you fiddle your auntie's inside mickey
J. Edward Denwick says:
Eww.
From The Cradle says:
HA
I will in me ________! Fill in the blank with a body part. It works with pretty much any one, but, the more taboo attached to the body part the better. "I will in me chin" works fine, but, "I will in me cock" will work better.
Musicals, ey? Mickey. War of the Worlds can be good, but not in film form with Tom Cruise. Was shite. But with Philip Lynott, one can't go wrong. The Spirit of Man.
For the evil one never rests. I said exercise the devil! But, no, they wouldn't listen. The demons inside them grew and grew until Satan gave his signal and destroyed the world we knew!
House cleaners clean houses. They can, in the right circumstances, polish the odd ornament. If the ornament is in a mickey-based shape, all the better. This will drive the woman of the house (bean an tí) into a wild fit of pleasure until she falls of the couch and onto the freshly hoovered carpet floor. The unstained fibres of the carpet will enhance these felling until she ends up pooped out, breathless on the small glass-topped coffee table, while the topless, cleaning man looks on from in front of the cabinet with a little terracotta vase in hand, long and thin, like a shaft of sorts.
Back in 1968 I gave up on everything. That's not very inspiring, righ'. But, it's not my responsibility to perk youz up on the twenty seventh day of December. Get your own kicks in life. Unfortunately that's all I can say to you. To fully get the lost out of what you have in your heart (life) is to get out there, get a house cleaner and get aroused. Good luck.
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