When I'm running out of arguments and I do not know what to say to my interlocutors, I feel rising in me the necessary outrage fascist frustrated Monaco who drank too much, I am never defect out the little phrase that kills: If you continue like that, I'll make big sores.
Vlan, and there the evil Franco assumed that I am is all about myself and him: so it takes very little for that kind of fool enough patting themselves on its own intellectual poverty - and think that he concludes the final debate of how ... I and several times threatened my little fists of evil zealots of another thought that non-thought-activist, who had the impudence to tell me other things than I like on my other blog (including attendance and tickets are becoming more pity, by the way).
"Big Bobo," is what the promise to oppose the fascist alternative visions to his own, possibly hidden behind a little harsh speech Bourdieu clumsy designed primarily to hide the poverty of context, or, of Otherwise, clear calls to mass murder in perfect relaxation nazillarde I can muster, since the black smoke until tar and feathers. If you follow me.
And there you have clearly stopped the joke.
I speak especially to Butch who, not content to scrape a gonad without any discretion, generously fun to fart on the sofa on which I relied m'affaler after writing this post and reading the exhausting winded prose of the other myself on the blog that you are familiar.
I say stop, my little Butch: If you continue to emit greenhouse gas emissions and olfactory assault, I'll do Big Bobos on the nose, because then it starts to serious dauber in the small apartment Toulouse. And as the window is stuck over I kicked a chair reading the wickedness that was telling me about this blog and I farted handle, now we can not then open to fart, Butch is on the floor thank you.
And after this unfortunate interruption of my speech, let us return to the initial topic of this post ... I was saying ... Ah, I feel that some are already asleep.
Perhaps rather have you hear me mumble stupidly need, with my beautiful voice of Adonis, a slightly rancid old ticket of my other blog on one of these magnificent MP3 recording for the poor which sputtering and crying and couinouille? For this, I encourage you to dive into my radio show baltringue exciting roller, No higher than Bar, whose name is well chosen because ultimately the top of the bar, I do rarely see.
Good.
I see that I still lost some .
I can also tell you about the unitééééé brailllllllllllléééééer and continue left to the fact that they are nothing but m'embêtéééééer not all want go to "N" PA and we will find ourselves alone, me and Oliviéééééer.
But I feel I'm still me répétéééééer and especially me trompéééééer as before ( here and there ).
Frankly, I know, I'm really tiring with my tickets not funny, not funny my life, my Butch not that funny ...
Well, you're going to stop farting in my sofa, shit?
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