Pam thinks her husband is an idiot. "Fuck you Ned you are a wanker", drunkenly muttering to herself. With half a slab of UDL under her belt. She staggers out to the paddock to his precious shed. Jack Daniels collectables floor to ceiling, including the old No. 7 Ned's mate painted on a barrel. It looks shit as. There's piles of clothes on the floor and a two litre Peters Original lid. Moaning rises from under the floor. Pam bursts through the basement door and sees a group of men in a circle, Chillaxing and patting their dicks. "What the fuck is going on cunts? Fucking hell is that my good fitted sheet? Get it off the fucking concrete Ned ya cunt, Oh fuck me, is that girl dead?" "Pam you were warned, To stay the fuck out of my cool man cave when I am having a meeting. Oi Bruce strap her in. Right lads get in line. Let's show this drunk nosey bitch how we operate. Bill do you have anything left?" "Just a little residue in my forey" "Just paint what you can on her forehead please. I need all you blokes to dig deep" One by one they puff little loads on her face. "Wait for my call...now!" As Ned's jizz hits her lips, Bruce stomps her head into a pulp. Poor Ned's bawling his eyes out. "Farewell my love". Ned steals one final kiss, tonguing bone, blood and semen. "Wrap 'em up boys the footy's 'bout to start. Put these cunts in the same fucking grave!".Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
