pride what? have honour in what? in what?! i'm not sympathetic to these jihadis, but then again, why am i not surprised? what, hmm? what hmm? communism was bad... take a look at 0 hour contracts and modern slavery, in your idol capitalism... ****, off! 0 hour contracts are worse than communism? really? the west is the best! yes?! really? evidently a blank pixel page is no longer a canvas for peace, for art, rather: evidence for making war... i hope someone invents a black canvas, just to **** around with M.I.5.... or whatever retards they employ; god, i love being drunk, and having the capacity of "driving" a "car", while unable to claim the "plea" of "insanity": plenty of drunk brits where i come from, want to stand them up straight? yeah, you won't be able even if you wanted to... i claim? diminished responsibility on the basis of intoxication... sure, i steered a sentence into dangerous territory... oops... you going to charge me for drinking, and writing drunk ******* on a flag coloured the colour of surrender? last time i checked, even the vatican was white & yella... so you libyan police, all green on the forefront of the debate concerning what's permitted, and what could have been, within the framework of the otherwise present? me asking that question suggests: i know no better joke.

sometimes i walk around the house
wearing my sunglasses,
thinking up more spectacular
events: oh right, i didn't turn off
the computer...
  for some reason the sunglasses
always come 2nd place of interest,
1st?
      it's usually during the night,
so i start gesticulating:
he went that way (left) - when
he actually went right..
   **** me, i'm either myopic,
blind, or cross-eyed...
    clue me in on mr. bean's acting
skills, having evolved from the black adder
franchise... you have
any clues other than *love actually?
pastor bean, or is that pastor adder?
just asking, love a quote
rather that minding your time
with a leeches' worth of signature hopefuls
at the antique annual event (minus spain),
by the way, nice ferrari you smashed...
  shmile... can i take a selfie?
poetry quickens the dialogue dynamic,
sorry,
say ola for me, for the next
recyclable diatribe of narration...
mostly scandinavian, i know,
lonely women, no pakistani plumbers
handy, to endear the 15 year old girls
in the "prudence" of the "game";
lucky you... blackpool!
i wishy-washy 'ope,
you don't getcha a speck of sand...
in ya slippa'h... my tweed-pie fakery
of a name, like germaine...
   flu-tipped all over germany
with
iraqi hmm... yummy... name that rebounds
with ghaahee;
best oil that **** up;
your fathers already speak to these
i.q. ***** via the same way they
speak to your mothers...
          i've become
pontius pilate o.c.d. when it comes
to being absorbed with mind
as possibly crafting a change,
believe me...
change is a force biased upon
reciprocation: to vow is to disavow -
there was no "natural" argument for
britain leaving the e.u.,
for there always was the barrier of a sea,
against a land...
           the english really do talk
pretty...
    but in reality?
  they're just as *******-bashed
in terms of ethnic etiquette as the germans...
talking pretty gets you only so far...
******* saks and schwabs:
                two-faced no-gooders:
schmile, one more ******* time;
   i haven't been in a fight since primary school,
i'm just wondering if i am still capable
of punching someone's *** to the ground.