Despite the chaos rocking other parts of her country,
Tuesday dawned like any other day for Poppet. She made herself a leisurely 'brekko' of wallaby steak and deep-fried galah, whilst languidly scanning the front page of the Erinsborough News.

'Strike me fackin pink, mite' she thought to herself, 'I think I'll have a quick dekko at the old b3ta'. She signed in, and her pulse quickened as she saw the red gaz notification lighting up her screen like a sunset over Elleroo.

As she opened the gaz she shrieked like a man who's just found a huntsman in the dunny, and flung her laptop across the room in horror. There before her, in giant and truly horrifying detail, was a photo. A photo of a scabrous penis poncho being cupped by a hand with a palm so large it looked like a Gloucester Old Spot slaked with sweat.

Oh Lokesy, she sighed. Not AGAIN.
( Monty Boyce, My cheese game is strong, Tue 8 Jan 2013, 13:23, 2 replies, latest was 12 years ago)

This one wins.

( tangledupinblue hairy badge with moving eyes, Tue 8 Jan 2013, 13:24, Reply)

and now there is vomit. All over the room. Thanks monts. It's past midnight here. Why are you trying to give me a nightmare hey?

(Poppet some assembly required., Tue 8 Jan 2013, 13:24, Reply)

DON'T......OPEN....THE GAZ.............

( Monty Boyce, My cheese game is strong, Tue 8 Jan 2013, 13:27, Reply)

I so want to gaz Poppet now so the messages goes red

( sporters I’m sincerely gratitude to you, Tue 8 Jan 2013, 13:32, Reply)

bitch
.
(Poppet some assembly required., Tue 8 Jan 2013, 13:38, Reply)

Meee and indeed ow

( sporters I’m sincerely gratitude to you, Tue 8 Jan 2013, 13:42, Reply)