Damn you, fickle fate!
So, once I was a short, fat gothboy. Merrily dancing away, mocked and had foolish chavscum mimicking my moves in comedic and abusive fashion. Moves like Jagger? Bah, I had the moobs like Jabba.
But did I get any Xympathy from Pretties? Did I buggery fuck as like.
So, I got all svelte and trim and ripped like Arnie. Now I is all Awexym and admired and worshipped.
But do I get any Pretties chatting me up now? Did I buggery fuck as like.
Now I'm all the apotheosis of awexym lithe catlike slinky-hipped rhythm mastery, the Pretties now want a great fat dancer :(
Not only do Teh Ladies like a fat dancing bloke, but they want to have a party for him. 1,700 hot and horny single women, flying him out to LA to stick two fingers up each and every one of them!
Jammy Bastard!
But it's not all fun and clunge. Oh no. The downside is he has to put up with Pharell Williams sticking his whore in and making an unwelcome personal appearance.
Happy as a room without a roof? 'appy? A pee..nis, more like! What a cockended arsefelcher! A room without a roof would let all the atmospherics in. The rain would play holy hell with the telly, your central heating would be fucked come snowtime, and you'd be bloody cold, wet and miserable.
And embarassed, if the room was the bathroom, and the neighbors are peering over your unroofed walls as you try to have a shit.
Beside, rooms don't have roofs. They have ceilings. Houses have roofs. No room has a roof. Except a wendy house. or a kennel. or something,
What a twat.
Yes he's happeeeeee....
...coz he's got the clap from tonnes of groupies and wads of cash for preposteriously stupid lyrics. Parental Avisory - may contain lyrics that are the epitomy of cuntybollocked twatbastardry.
