The oscillations of my turbo-sexual donkey divination device are but of naught when put up against the stalagmites and stalactites of your indifference. Let me touch the more intimate parts of your erotically-supercharged wallaby with the very tip of my touching stick (suitably recalibrated for marsupials, of course) and I will never again question the veracity of your expense claims.
Let us go then, you and I, now the stockbrokers are spread out against the sky and go on down to the naughty device shop and see if we can buy a half-pound bag of mixed and assorted naughty devices for our later perusal back in the comfort and safety of our very own potting shed.
I have seen the future and it tastes of marmalade.
Onward, my sex weasels, onward! There are wildebeests in the wainscoting once again and it is still only autumn. How can this be when there are only small grommets available in the shops?
Still, I have the banana here, do you have the lawyer oiled and readied?
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