I hope she buys a pack of "Ready to Eat" avocados, gets home to prepare for a special dinner treat with her family who are all sitting waiting for omega 3 and trans-fat balanced but ethnically appropriate food groups and singing white power anthems before realising that they are harder than a British sex-tourist's penis in an underage Thai brothel.
Her family will stare at her disdainfully whilst chewing their under-endowed pine-nut salad, near silently incanting the mantra of "mum fucked up, with her big stupid conker, mum fucked up, she's a fucking plonker, mum fucked up, she's got no pals, mum fucked up, she's gone halal." Just as they reach this rising climax, the doorbell rings and she rushes to answer it, delighted to escape the scene of her domestic failure. On opening the door she is confronted with none other than a tan-skinned man in sober, smart clothes collecting for disabled veterans in the area and before she can even scream at him to stop trying to con people and that she'll call the polics, he's already proffered his security-marked ID to prove he's legitimate. Barely able to breathe through the fizzing piss rising in her gullet, she throws a sweaty and limp fiver at him that's been clawed from the depths of her girdle-like Fat Face jeans and has slammed the door in a flurry of pashmina and a nose that would make Cyrano de Bergerac's look petite.
Solemnly drifting back to the table she can only think to herself "His ID might have been sound but I bet he's still a filthy terrorist illegal who wanted to alternately rape each of my cavernous nostrils just because they reminded him of some camel's asshole back home. Fuck, that was close-I almost died-I really need to get belmed off my tits on twift tonight."
I hope she buys a pack of "Ready to Eat" avocados, gets home to prepare for a special dinner treat with her family who are all sitting waiting for omega 3 and trans-fat balanced but ethnically appropriate food groups and singing white power anthems before realising that they are harder than a British sex-tourist's penis in an underage Thai brothel.
Her family will stare at her disdainfully whilst chewing their under-endowed pine-nut salad, near silently incanting the mantra of "mum fucked up, with her big stupid conker, mum fucked up, she's a fucking plonker, mum fucked up, she's got no pals, mum fucked up, she's gone halal." Just as they reach this rising climax, the doorbell rings and she rushes to answer it, delighted to escape the scene of her domestic failure. On opening the door she is confronted with none other than a tan-skinned man in sober, smart clothes collecting for disabled veterans in the area and before she can even scream at him to stop trying to con people and that she'll call the polics, he's already proffered his security-marked ID to prove he's legitimate. Barely able to breathe through the fizzing piss rising in her gullet, she throws a sweaty and limp fiver at him that's been clawed from the depths of her girdle-like Fat Face jeans and has slammed the door in a flurry of pashmina and a nose that would make Cyrano de Bergerac's look petite.
Solemnly drifting back to the table she can only think to herself "His ID might have been sound but I bet he's still a filthy terrorist illegal who wanted to alternately rape each of my cavernous nostrils just because they reminded him of some camel's asshole back home. Fuck, that was close-I almost died-I really need to get belmed off my tits on twift tonight."