anchorwomen

atrot! The sun’s a scream! The air’s a jig. The water’s great! Seven oldy oldy hills and the Finnan baddies and the lost Gabbarnaur-J aggar- nath. Pamjab! Gross Jumpitery whud was thud? Luckluckluck- luckluckluckluck! It is my rule so. It is poblesse noblige. Ommes will grin through collars when each riders other’s ass. Me Eccls! What cats’ killings overall! What popping out of touch and flow for every busy eerie whig’s a bit with Wolsey under the suspices of Tally, around their old selves again since that weird hood? Because among nosoever circusdances