There are people who live in Pudsea, there are children who come from darkest Wales, and there are tribes in deepest Borneo that know and love my cauliflower cheese. They even order id online and bay vor id through Baybal. But not today. Christmas fucking dinner was a right state. And I'm usually not bad on the pans really. Still. Could be worse. I could be a darkie employed by John Terry.
As a slave.
With Luis Saurez working as interpreter
it's all bollocks mind. Saurez racialist? He's mixed race! Erm...hello?
The F.A. Stupid cunts who back themselves into a corner over every controversial decision. Seriously.
The Evans of the football world. Brings it on himself, etc.'p
Jesus. I fell asleep, wrecked, mid-post and Olivia got hold of my phone and posted the above. Really. She did. It's probably better than what I'd have done, especially the bit about poollpp"llppol which is brilliantly written. I'll leave it at that. I was going to tell you about a bleak Christmas day at Spurn, a Coot, 10,000 Knot and a naked girl who just loves performing fellatio on strangers. But I won't bother.
All the best and that. Ball tits.