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Saturday, May 06, 2006
Cocktail Sausage or Knockwurst?
Readers of a more sensitive nature may not want to click HERE.
Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned; and it seems Miss Temple certainly knows how to target her scorn for maximum effect.
Even if the allegations are not true, I would surmise that she has presented the world with as damaging an image of Prescott as the one of John Major tucking his shirt into his underpants.
And to round off, a joke to raise the morale of those men who may feel a little embarrassed about their Prescott-like private parts:
A man visits a house of ill-repute and selects a lady from the assorted lovelies. Up in the room he undresses revealing an appendage somewhat below average size.
Unkindly the lady of negotiable virtue bursts out laughing and asks who he thinks he is going to satisfy with a todger of such miniscule proportions.
He looks at her scathingly for a moment and then says: "Me, of course".
In defence of John Prescott's penis, isn't it quite a standard feature of these sort of stories that the person being exposed is often given the choice of being a five times a night stud or an inadequate pervert who is hung like a hamster, depending on how much they cooperates with the newspaper?
It isn't as though he could sue for libel over this sort of accusation wothout being humiliated even more.
5 comments:
I shall go to the gym presently.
very informative and hopefully Mrs Motice will see the improvement soon
Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned; and it seems Miss Temple certainly knows how to target her scorn for maximum effect.
Even if the allegations are not true, I would surmise that she has presented the world with as damaging an image of Prescott as the one of John Major tucking his shirt into his underpants.
And to round off, a joke to raise the morale of those men who may feel a little embarrassed about their Prescott-like private parts:
A man visits a house of ill-repute and selects a lady from the assorted lovelies. Up in the room he undresses revealing an appendage somewhat below average size.
Unkindly the lady of negotiable virtue bursts out laughing and asks who he thinks he is going to satisfy with a todger of such miniscule proportions.
He looks at her scathingly for a moment and then says: "Me, of course".
RM
In defence of John Prescott's penis, isn't it quite a standard feature of these sort of stories that the person being exposed is often given the choice of being a five times a night stud or an inadequate pervert who is hung like a hamster, depending on how much they cooperates with the newspaper?
It isn't as though he could sue for libel over this sort of accusation wothout being humiliated even more.
Dies ist mir alles ziemlich Wurst... ;P
But wait until you hear the cafe orders: I'll have 2 Prescotts with egg and chips.
Free Britannia,
You're wrong; he's a fat prick with a small dick. Reputedly.
RM
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