Monday 5 September 2011

Train Station Workers Are Nazis

Because they shouted at me when I was on my bike and threatened to both fine me £80 and, upon complaining that they were being cunts, to call the police. Me and Jacob left to continue our magical advernture to discover the true Father Christmas and left the vile, shit-eating, fucktarded arseholes to live their pathetic, empty and pointless little lives and their laughably late night shift hours. They will die lonely and horrifically after violently vomiting their brains out whilst being particularly rude to a common pigeon.

But enough about them, let us discuss our wonderous adventure of much herp, derp and overall joy and hilarity as we ventured deep into the bussom of the Ladymead Porsche Garage. It was here we knew we would be sure to find Sonic the Hedgehog having an O.D. on heroin. We knew only he could tell us where the real Santa was...

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