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There’s something in the Abbottsfear – is it castor oil?
Clivegina, a monstrous hybrid nearly as fearsome as the Rinepalmer.
Vlad the Unemployer. In his red speedos, astride a prancing pyne; Emperor of all he sees; and he can see plenty now because there are none of those pesky trees.
If only the senate stays safe; he will have all that meat; and no potatoes
The crawlers cover the floor in the red ochre corridors
Full coalition coverage, no more lifeblood than before.
They’re moving in time to a heavy wooden door,
Where the needles eye is winking, closing on the poor.
The carpet crawlers heed their callers:
Weve got to get in to get out
Weve got to get in to get out
Weve got to get in to get out.
That should be the Daily Merde?
Ponsonby Scumlington is clearly being groomed for the CoS vacancy in Fiona Gnash’s office.