Now as you know, I would die befoire I would impugn a lady's reputation or pass any sort of moral judgement, but to marry that little ***** she can't have been exactly choosy, can she? I suspect the orifice in question has been reamed from ársehole to breakfast time by half the population of Golders Green, and that by the time that little **** got to it, it was flapping like a windsock in a gusting squall.
*I mean our own dear Monty, may the Lord bless and protect him.*
*Little ****.
'Seems that I was busy doing something close to nothing
But different than the day before'
'Met a dwarf that was no good, dressed like Little Red Riding Hood'
'Now you're unemployed, all non-void
Walkin' round like you're Pretty Boy Floyd'