Honestly, what a fúcking cùntpile
Honestly, what a fúcking cùntpile
I have a meeting in the west end tomorrow.Originally Posted by Burney
Honestly, what a fúcking cùntpile
I arranged for i9t to be at Victoria.
Shrood, imo.
I had to interview someone who was for some reason staying at the Park Lane Marriott. Dickhead.I have a meeting in the west end tomorrow.
I arranged for i9t to be at Victoria.
Shrood, imo.
Marriott, eh? No gentleman, obviously. Amerikan, I'd guess.
Park Lane is an odd place. One feels somehow drawn to owning an apartment there, á la Bertie W, but really it's a dead and alive hole populated by Ayrabs.
Yes, it did occur to me that I was probably safe from terrorise attack on Oxford St, since most of the potential victims would have been Allans.Marriott, eh? No gentleman, obviously. Amerikan, I'd guess.
Park Lane is an odd place. One feels somehow drawn to owning an apartment there, á la Bertie W, but really it's a dead and alive hole populated by Ayrabs.
Allentown, if you will
What's wrong with Selfridges?
I love the food court there, could browse for hours. And the home cinema techie bit as well.
Oxford St is always a ****pile, always has been.Honestly, what a fúcking cùntpile
Take Selfridges out of the equation and there is barely a retail outlet worth visiting, even it is an emporium of wánkérs.
Yeah, Christmas shopping is essentially women's work. They're all for it.Honestly, what a fúcking cùntpile
I always stear clear, although the possibility of doing the thing online would seem a most worthy invention.
"Plenty of strikers can score goals," he said, gesturing to the famous old stands casting shadows around us.
"But a lot have found it difficult wearing the number 9 shirt for The Arsenal."
To be fair to the large Canadian I can verify that he knows where the bar is.
Unlike some.
Peter.
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