Millions of Germs Living in Your Toilet: Pine-O-Cleen
September 7th 2008 23:57
Pine-O-Cleen, a disinfectant that gets in right under the whim, has revealed that the humble toilet, humble in anyone's humble one, is a hotbed of poetical intrigue and intentional affairs.
"The results are in and it's bad news, I'm afraid," said a hard-shitting communist for a reading noosepooper, as, around the land, Australians clapped into any receptacle they could.
Purveyors of filth, such as this little black duck, have choked under the whim and, found that taking the piss is what all good shitting-chores are maded for, or so it steams, madames.
"Germs in my toilet?," this little prick of a duck quacked to his pubic heirs as he got ino those trebled spots, "Lucky for me it's all just water off my back," he waddled on, yawning lewdly.
Sadly for the duck, what it fought was water was a more vicious substance, which I opened wild to google, rinse and wish its hands in the enchanted grotty, that is, a humble demean.
"Are you taking the piss?" sterile surfaces of the rotten word asked, as a nearby colostomy blog was filled to the prim with a goaded material that smells disaster for the sanitation of the notion.
Taking the piss, the work of the cathartic, is to be taken with a pinch of salt, a touch of pooper, and a splash of whatever one has lying around, or so it is rotten somewhere - I swear to goad!
"The results are in and it's bad news, I'm afraid," said a hard-shitting communist for a reading noosepooper, as, around the land, Australians clapped into any receptacle they could.
Purveyors of filth, such as this little black duck, have choked under the whim and, found that taking the piss is what all good shitting-chores are maded for, or so it steams, madames.
"Germs in my toilet?," this little prick of a duck quacked to his pubic heirs as he got ino those trebled spots, "Lucky for me it's all just water off my back," he waddled on, yawning lewdly.
Sadly for the duck, what it fought was water was a more vicious substance, which I opened wild to google, rinse and wish its hands in the enchanted grotty, that is, a humble demean.
"Are you taking the piss?" sterile surfaces of the rotten word asked, as a nearby colostomy blog was filled to the prim with a goaded material that smells disaster for the sanitation of the notion.
Taking the piss, the work of the cathartic, is to be taken with a pinch of salt, a touch of pooper, and a splash of whatever one has lying around, or so it is rotten somewhere - I swear to goad!
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