Sunday, 17 April 2011

Aldi, Aldi, Aldi! Coz if it's not love, it's up the bum that'll bring us together...

Filth!

Televisual promotions of soccer team rapeage!!

I've heard of these soccery types in The Press, and they are reknown for roasting underage drunken WoG wannabees.

And now, budget supermarkets are blatantly offering a three bird roast!

Now, I'm all for rampant shaggery*, but I've no intention of paying for a triplicity of Larkman lovelies & Marlpit mingers with a quintitude of soccer scum, when the last thing I want when selecting battered fish for tea is a selection of black & blue frozen rohypnolled students and trollied footballers in me trolly, let alone in me trollies.

Although I'm 2 minds about debauched drugged and drunken dames.


"But Xym", I hear no-one cry, "Beggers can't be choosers". Or I could be deaf, and they're saying they can't bugger and chew Cher's hairs. But it doesn't change the fact I've got half of Delia Smiths unwilling pie fillings** nobbing strumpets in the living room, getting the carpet all gummy with beaver batter and soccer stars sausage spurtage.


And I'm not having Delia banging against me front door bellowing "I need a 12th man out here! Where are you? I wants to be having you! Come on... 
up me snatch!" like some insatiable chef succubus who'll suckyouoff in her Carrow Road spit roasting den of vice.

or something.

* CHANCE'D BE A FINE THING!!!
** AND I DON'T JUST MEAN HER CANNIBALISTIC PORK PIES EITHER. IT'S IN THE CANARY CONTRACT - HER SELECTION OF MANFLESH UNWILLINGLY HAVE TO PORK HER PIE TO STAY IN THE BEAUTIFUL GAME.