with snorkels and
Printable View
with snorkels and
yellow polka dot
FROGS and al al al ...............................................bee r ...........................................thought i was gunna say aliens huh!!!lol
sorry 4x4x4x4x4x4x4ing instead of 3x3x3x3x3x3ing
which nowoolies drank
Through a straw
then barfffffed everywhere
i feel CROooooooooooook
said bigrig gasping
whilst going for
a six pack
of bourban and
barfffffffffff ..................need beer
makes me bloated
what barrrrrrrrrrrrrrfffffff does??????
beer ya plonka
said the tojodriver
to the vicar
who was doing
his morning constitutional
Attachment 2191
i keeeellllll you
then Daffy squealed
Who dares wins
its peter pan
No Captain Hook
And wendy to
lost her marbles
while watching muppets
eat their Porridge
before the three
midday news service
( I must of had a Brain fade with that reply)
and weather presenters
rode dirt bikes
Since the last time...................
A seductive voice could be heard from the back of AB’s patrol. “Christened at last!!!!”
But it wasn’t what you think. The sound was sounding more like Timbo’s gearbox whine, or the missus’ bananas all over the back seats in the mighty tuff GU patrol – which was bogged. Ha bloody ha.
The ruddy table drain was deep. She clawed her, for winching practice, on AB’s GQ, but winch broke. Luckily, had damper on wire cable. Yep, but bearing in mind, our mate was so protective about his mighty GQ Patrol, that he didn’t fit new tyres. But the powerful, “you are kidding”, mighty GU, rescued a tennis ball. Hardy ha ha.
But the GQ rescued a yoyo, stuck up high. So it launched a Spacely Sprocket out for assistance. Long came Bigrig with a new, politically correct, black powder coated bulbar, with matching ebony Nissan Patrol rims – which fit perfectly onto Clunk’s - No Roofy’s, truck. “Bloody thieving Victorians!”
Bloody Sandgroper, lol. Now now boys. Mean while back at the old ranch, the boys were getting ready for their manicure and full body rub, with gear oil, wearing nuffink but hob nail boots and a shammy – hiding things below in their nether regions of nomans land, or no woman to forge away. To forge away in their g-strings through the mystic sound of music where the hills r bald, like them, valleys run deep, dark and dreary, small streams run. Rev it up. It’s Hopalong again, and he’s gonna a higher plain to check out all the women frolicking in the slop of sewage and getting their thongs wet because it looks good with snorkels and yellow polka dot frogs and al, which Nowoolies drank through a straw then barffffed everywhere.
“I feel crook,” said Bigrig, gasping, whilst going for a six pack of bourbon and barffff, “need beer – makes me bloated.” “What barrrffff, does?” “Beer, ya plonka”, said the tojodriver, to the vicar who was doing his morning constitutional. “I keeelll you”.
Then Daffy squealed, “who dares wins’. It’s Peter Pan, No, Captain Hook, and Wendy too, lost her marbles, while watching muppets eat their porridge before the three midday news service and weather presenters rode dirt bikes.
Page 194 Thread # 1939
on the yellow
edge line of
the double lines
of brick road
near ice-cream factory
outside of town
In the forest