Deer doe-eyed Phylis el in bodyment of masculinty,
SABU is Sikh off the eagle-testical player, the soak alt “pre-McDonald’s” who rate themself oh so high when are in FACHT Lidl more than a WIMPY. Miss Phylis Continue: you are no Mr Loose Wires, you are not the crème Keith Deller crème and yore howse is a bugger joint NOT a restaurant: SABU must educate this deluded fun size homunculus of what you is RIGHTS SABU PUNDIT.
Oh Phylis, with yore “inner scent” baby faece, the buttocks wouldn’t meld in the mouse, the under developed Tess tickles and Gillette-less face like fallow jaffa El Ninny of yester cheer. You so seedless and “merely a child”… and so was the blood Suker leach in Mr Chow Dick Ing’s oh puss “BLEACH HOUSE”: amoral Mr Skin Pole. The c@ck. SABU is cultured and far far beyond your Ray Parlour tricks and skull diggery fore we scene it, this Dejan View, this James (not Rodriguez) acting before: there is nuttin nude under The Scum apart from p3: that is the painful day-today reality of SABU’s turban existence.
Pathetic microscopic entity , you spread vial lice about “sour relationship” with Herr Krupps but no-one is fooled. Your angling for a move is obtuse and acutely obvious which reflex your pour judgment and yore degree is M.Phil because is a baiter. Contemptible pig me: weather you leave before end of Augustus or not you have soiled the Libpole experience and will be pampers no more. “But] je suis sud American so mus join the BastardLoner or Royale McDrid”… do ye see SABU the INjun inner hurray to move back to bladdy Jullundar? EXACTLY. Thank you very much.
Rear guards,
SABU PUNDIT