That is a himpy jousting canine flapjack, which most certainly needs some kind of modifications you its wizardly posterior tuddle by those which have no ocular cavities and hence have a rather well developed sense of what looks good with a burberry handbag at the seahorse water polo match at the Florida ring toss booth. Rings on the fingers rings on the toes or rings on the bell towers or rings made of clothes...a puddle of moose witling daisies at best, pompous old earwigs and aboriginies' breast; yet these are the things to which I'm unclear; perhaps I'll like parsnips better next year. Alas tis the time for grasping a flute, or sending the faries into your kipchoot...yet I digress, tis none of these so...little hipgongthorns are sweet, dont you know?
I make no apologies.
Fools.
I make no apologies.
Fools.

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