No time for the old in-out, love. I've just come to read the meter.
Being the adventures of a young man whose principal interests are rape, ultra-violence and Beethoven.
Appy polly loggies. I had something of a pain in the gulliver, so I had to sleep. I was not awakened when I gave orders for wakening.
Welly, welly, welly, welly, welly, welly, well! To what do I owe the extreme pleasure of this surprising visit?
Initiative comes to thems that wait.
We were all feeling a bit shagged and fagged and fashed it having been an evening of some small energy expenditure.
And the first thing that flashed into me gulliver was that I'd like to have her right down there on the floor with the old in-out, real savage.
It had been a wonderful evening and what I needed now, to give it the perfect ending, was a little of the old Ludwig van.
But enough of words, actions speak louder than. Action now. Observe all.
Naughty, naughty, naughty. You filthy old soomka.
Goodness is chosen. When a man cannot choose he ceases to be a man.
Are you now, or have you ever been, a homosexual?
He's enterprising, aggressive, outgoing, young, bold, vicious. He'll do.
Can you spare some cutter, me brother?