Of course she did,
When she wasn't fucking Neil Morrisey, of course. I can just image Les banging away at her, making noises like an orgasmic hamster before lapsing into his Mavis from Corrie impression upon hitting the vinegar strokes and staggering off to make a cup of tea, while she lies there, frustrated, in a rapidly cooling puddle of Les Dennis baby batter, before sighing, standing up and wincing as the most lively thing he's ever produced slowly drips out, runs down her thigh and stains the £14.99 polyester weave chocolate and taupe rug from Argos.
( ,
Mon 31 May 2010, 18:29,
archived)