Sunday, December 23, 2012

Merry Christmas Eve Eve


I've come here with a view of asking you to marriage me. I know
 I seems an insane person, because I hardly knows you, but sometimes things are so transparency, they don't need evidential proof.

Stateside I am Prince William, without the weird family.

All I want for Christmas is you.

Yeah, um, Mary, can we move the Japanese ambassador
to four o'clock tomorrow?

Now which doll shall we give Daisy's little friend Emily? The one that looks like a transvestite or the one that looks like a dominatrix?

NO! No bloody holly!

So if you believe in Father Christmas, children, like your
Uncle Billy does, buy my festering turd of a record. And particularly enjoy the incredible crassness of the moment when we try to
squeeze an extra syllable into the fourth line.

Well, this is a surprise. Ten minutes at Elton John's and
you're as gay as a maypole.

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