was billowing across the subject as long as the official landing of Lady Jales Casemate, in the Dar Bey Coll Cafeteria by tootling risky apropos songs at commercial travellers’ smokers for their release from the cream colt Bold Boy Cromwell after a cubital lull with a belchybubhub and a flick flask fleckflinging its pixylighting pacts’ huemeramybows, picking here, pecking there, pussypussy plunderpussy. But it’s quite on the cards she’ll shed 201