Enchante, sweet smelling shedders,
Shhhh. Stop. Stop breathing so heavy. Don’t say a word. I feel it. Yea, I feel it, like an impacted bowel, how much you’ve yearned, quivered, phantasisesd about this very event. how the great angel, would rise, phoenix like from the ashes of her beloved shed, and return to pen her award winning epistles. Well here it is, baby, and you dib;t even have to offer me bum-sexx to get it. I’m a girl.
well, what the fuck have you been up to? Big nige told me you were selling your old my little ponies outside pound land in the Skem Concourse. but he would say that. He tried to sell me a care bare for 10 pesetas and a bottle of fanta (brillo pad flavour).
Well what have I been up to, mes petits. I’ve actually been encased in rock. Yes. piles of Status Quo cds fell into my house like a landslide and I couldn’t move. I had to wait for Stefan Dennis on his way to ‘Tanarife’ (Walton Vale’s best tanning salon) to notice that my ‘smart ladies almanac’ was piling up outside the door, as were bottles of fanta (white dog poo flavour).
but i’m back and ready to make you soil your garments with mirth.