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( , Sun 1 Apr 2001, 1:00)
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( , Fri 22 May 2009, 10:56, 2 replies, latest was 16 years ago)

Bloody young 'uns. You're not getting any Werthers originals from me.
*grumbles about price of butter shooting through the roof*
( , Fri 22 May 2009, 11:07, Reply)

guess what I have?
/holds out your spectacles and cane.
/runs
/trips
/falls in a puddle
/is a bit wet and muddy.
fucksocks.
( , Fri 22 May 2009, 11:09, Reply)

Can be pricey. Have you considered switching to a tactical margarine launcher?
( , Fri 22 May 2009, 11:51, Reply)

If he get's cold feet, he'll go off on one and the only way to shut him up will be to put the golf on the television.
( , Fri 22 May 2009, 11:03, Reply)

rather dapper coat off though so we will have to febreeze it whilst he wears it :p
( , Fri 22 May 2009, 11:05, Reply)

I wouldn't be caught dead watching that fucking dull pile of shit.
I swear, years ago I worked with a lad in a kitchen who asked if he could change channels on the radio to listen to the golf...
LISTEN TO GOLF? Can anything possibly be more dull? You can't even see the fucking ball on the bloody telly; radio commentators must have to be really talented to describe the utter dirge that is golf on the radio.
I don't like golf; can you tell?
( , Fri 22 May 2009, 11:09, Reply)

and even baseball - but golf?
/shakes head.
( , Fri 22 May 2009, 11:10, Reply)

You know what happened last time.
Semen EVERYWHERE.
( , Fri 22 May 2009, 11:19, Reply)
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