This is motion towards, isn’t it! So…?
Regards,
Shodan
It’s a joke name, sir, like “Sillius Soddus” or “Biggus Dickus.”
Immanuel Kant was a real piss-ant who was very rarely stable. Heideggar, Heideggar was a boozy beggar who could think you under the table. David Hume could out-consume Schopenhauer and Hegel. Rene Descartes was a drunken fart: “I drink, therefore I am.”
Lend us a couple of bob till Thursday. I’m absolutely skint.
A-ha - anti-Semitism!
That’s a tinny word.
But I didn’t have any salmon mousse.
It’s not even a proper nose - it’s polystyrene.
Right. Now. I’m going to say a word, and I want you to say the first thing that comes into your head. How many pints do you want?
Three shall be the number thou shall count
I bet you’re gay.
For the last time, I’m not Sir Philip Bleedin’ Sydney!
Nothing! Here’s your nine pence…
Sandwiches?
Shut your festering gob, you tit! Your type really makes me puke, you vacuous, coffee-nosed, maloderous, pervert!!!
Splunge!
I don’t like Spam!
Lobster Thermidor aux crevettes with a Mornay sauce, garnished with truffle pâté, brandy and a fried egg on top of Spam
It’s quite staggeringly popular at the manor, squire.
Good morning, gentlemen. This is a twelwe-storey block combining classical neo-Georgian features with the efficiency of modern techniques. The tenants arrive in the entrance hall here, and are carried along the corridor on a conveyor belt in extreme comfort and past murals depicting Mediterranean scenes, towards the rotating knives. The last twenty feet of the corridor are heavily soundproofed. The blood pours down these chutes and the mangled flesh slurps into these…