Ye Guts for Garters Pub
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YOU wrote:
Break out the sponges to soak up the good stuff and ,with a liberal hand,let the drippings baptise the pungent dregs poured,as toffee,into shot glasses.Triangular sang-gwiches need be decrusted and toasted,whilst bleach ought to be applied to rid our choice product of pesky sell-by dates.
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Anyone looking to join an active family private message me!
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Visɧɓuɱe wrote:
Let the over powering palatableness of vintage mustard walloped freely to the triangles obscure the taste of the out of date country cut slices of hang.YOU wrote:
Break out the sponges to soak up the good stuff and ,with a liberal hand,let the drippings baptise the pungent dregs poured,as toffee,into shot glasses.Triangular sang-gwiches need be decrusted and toasted,whilst bleach ought to be applied to rid our choice product of pesky sell-by dates.
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༺ ᗪᗰᒪ ༻ wrote:
Hear,hear,😂😂😂Visɧɓuɱe wrote:
Let the over powering palatableness of vintage mustard walloped freely to the triangles obscure the taste of the out of date country cut slices of hang.YOU wrote:
Break out the sponges to soak up the good stuff and ,with a liberal hand,let the drippings baptise the pungent dregs poured,as toffee,into shot glasses.Triangular sang-gwiches need be decrusted and toasted,whilst bleach ought to be applied to rid our choice product of pesky sell-by dates.
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Bob, delightful of his recent returns, enters the Garter for a celebratory beverage.
Empty boasting reflects poorly on the qualities of the braggart.
As the old proverb says; self-praise is no praise.
No heed is passed by the Garter faithful, an seisún mór continues unabated. -
A little over infatuated between the scutter that may flow uncontrollably and extra martial affairs on the back seat, the school groundskeeper was too busy to notice that Jeff had been slipping his wife his greasy todger while he was bringing his car to the woods for gauk and tug.
The only evidence was the love juice stains at waist high level on Bazzys bedroom curtains from Jeff wiping his todger when the deed was done. -
Hunkered down, in a pool of rotten liquidified turnips and carrots, sandwiched between two trash cans in a wet damp alley to the rear of the Garter, a drooling Steele, with one hand grasping the Moscow Man of the Year 2023 in one hand, his communist overlord Putin adorning the front cover, the other shoved deep into his britches searching for his small manhood gleaming to reach an element of hysteria as his presence is unwanted in the slush halls of the Garter.
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Bodily discharges redolent of half-boiled parsnips married with clammy fannies barely cause a stir amongst maudlin yet ardent patrons.
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Gagging and retching enforce atavistic thoughts through tingling and pulses.
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The prolonged gurgling of fanny farts lifted not an eyelid from the patrons,who sat deep in their reveries over drinks,much less provoked a compliment nor even a scolding.Sensing a fart blanche,the maiden allowed herself to ooze gas freely.A distended nostril she thought to see but bethought little of it.Emboldened in her sampling of the waters,shall we say,she sidled up her skirts and proceeded to shit where she stood.Such was her concentration on the deed at hand that she did not observe,much less decry,the bottle hurled violently towards her head from the arm of Geoff,who was more motivated to avoiding the mop up afterwards rather than a sense of propriety.
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