Dear Nos,
Mike Stockdale and Ralph Taylor are trying to move into the chicken coop. I've asked them for proof (I have to because of my hen house boarding room licence) to show that they are genuine chickens and not just trying to hide out here. They've said that you can prove it because you know they're chicken arsed hate-siters and that you wrote about it on your blog.
I've told them while what they say is probably true(that they're fully qualified chicken arsed hate-siters,) that they're better off contacting Bert Potter's hen house because they'd fit right in there with Kent and the other old chooks - you know the ones.
Anyway Nos, why not up the ante on your wager, say another $2,000 if they can't prove that very personal intimate swabs weren't taken from David on the morning of the murders-suicide. Maybe if you win you could donate the money to charity - but I don't mean campmother's defamation case, that wouldn't be charity unless he was floundering in the deep end and you threw him a rock. What a charitable thing to do, and you probably enjoy it.
Anyway, I've got eggs to collect - which as you realise, is another reason I don't want Stockdale and Taylor in here, because of their remarkable likeness to triple yokers. I could lose my licence if either of them got cracked open by mistake and ended up as French toast at the Hardluck Cafe getting eaten by retard Rachael. Come to think of it, that would be cannibalism.
Cheerio old bean
Goodnewsguy.
No comments:
Post a Comment