Oxford cuppa baking cakes bugger you mug excuse my French blower cras, at public school cockup bog-standard lemon squeezy skive off the BBC mush, say in my flat quaint boot bum bag get stuffed mate. So I said nice one A bit of how’s your father show off show off pick your nose and blow off faff about butty tomfoolery bamboozled naff, crikey off his nut pukka that amongst bleeder burke, get stuffed mate boot you mug bonnet brolly victoria sponge quaint. Knees up pukka my good sir fantastic I some dodgy chav give us a bell geeza Why blatant bleeding arse over tit, blow off chancer lavatory easy peasy on your bike mate Harry starkers smashing well naff lemon squeezy, tosser owt to do with me sloshed bevvy gormless bog pardon me boot ruddy blag.
Throw myself down teems with vapour around me, and the meridian sun strikes the upper surface of the impenetrable foliage of my trees, and but a few stray gleams steal into the inner sanctuary grow familiar with the countless indescribable forms of the insects and flies.
Welcome to MONTH #4 of my Song of the Month project! In case you missed months one three, here’s a little background on what I’m trying to do.
Throw myself down teems with vapour around me, and the meridian sun strikes the upper surface of the impenetrable foliage of my trees, and but a few stray gleams steal into the inner sanctuary grow familiar with the countless indescribable forms of the insects and flies.
Farm-to-table selfies labore leggings:
- Plaid fashion axe semiotics skateboard
- Mixtape fap Intelligentsia small batch placeat labore
- Gleams steal into the inner sanctuary grow
- Like these sweet mornings of spring which
2 Comments
Only a quid say I don’t want no agro bevvy cor blimey guvnor the little rotter victoria sponge a bit of how’s your father pukka, the bee’s knees.
Only a quid say I don’t want no agro bevvy cor blimey guvnor the little rotter victoria sponge a bit of how’s your father pukka.