Johnny Fillotson, open your mouth and force down this gigantic Strawberry Wonderland. Fringell Ethnic Spencer, Squeen Bile Rennet. Hang me with your dioxide principal girl, Gazedron. Wall me up in your Iso-Fatso lagoon. If you are a stick-man, you must know Jeanette du Luxor. Dissect me if I'm wrong, boil me in ermine tracer-bullets if I'm right. It is wonderful to remove the insides of flies at All-Hallow's and wear the husks as masks... Husks as masks!
Dear God,
Just another letter from your cringing henchman. The shack needs a new roof and the organist complains of pigeon lime in his pipes. The twenty-seven carnally-orientated choresters have debauched the vicarage cat again. By the way, Jehovah's Witnesses call everyday. Roland sends his love. Send me the pillow that Gertrude Stein was sick on!
Yours in black,
THE BISHOP
PS. St Francis sends his love and can you do something about the rabbits, such as sterilisation.
Come on in, we're doing the Dance of Saturn... One step forward, three steps back, one step sideways, two steps up, all clap hands and shake hands with the titanium girl on your right... Throw off your worm-hide hat and, with solid sprays of sugar-glycol, micturate through your eyes, then your hairs, then your naked staircase of coal.
But back at the "Cat's Haemorrhoids" public howitzer, disrepute had a brief, but regular-conservative, petty on the trice of Quee. Stin Galomely Mitter du Ditroxene, ditto lest Silexene the Natterjack, toad so lightly? No, Send me the pillow that Gertrude Stein was sick on!
Exonerate even Incas, if that's your idea of a red experience! Was it on the Night Row, the Time Toe, the Slime Show? Who warped, was it Snurdonia the Oaf-Leak from Slobodia? Rescind, buy pipes for pecking Norlemson Mites. Mason will tie string in the Big Top tonight!
We spent Christmas at Morgan's sweet shop. Mr Penhale played host and Mrs Penhale hung herself in the bathroom. The lights on the tree squirted rat-poison at Johnny Bluesuit.
If everyone in the world said, "I have no knowledge of the Cosmic runt!" simultaneously, the world would stop turning. I have dropped my guts, but not my cutlery, Professor Fison! Do I communicate with First Pulsar Dog-Clowns?
I just woke up, it was a Gosport Morning! Oh! Gosport, to me, you are a small town where I awake to the sound of seagulls tweeting, as if in celebration of Safeways, extensive free parking and a model yacht pond.
Gosport's noble heritage is wet, salt wet, because of the sea, which is everywhere... except possibly the domestic water supply and acres of land which are dry unless it rains. Don't forget to visit Stanley Park... and vote Liberal.
Do not leave bus routes unguarded, Oh moated Gosport bastion! If you like moats, come to Gosport, we've got loads of moats. Thanks to the Victorians, we have moats... follies built by wallies, to keep out the French, who with Gallic wisdom, would probably land at Forton Creek and take the bus from Grove Road, through Whitworth Road, Bury Road, passing as swarthy shoppers through Stoke Road and disembarking at the High Street, with spears and arrows blazing. So much for our moats!
Vote Liberal and don't miss our Saturday market, unless you're French.
I like Gosport, it's got a tree. Elsewhere, some pertinent stirrings...
"...Hi there!... "VC On The Radio" here, good evening and welcome to the Friday Raaawwwwwqqqqkkkkcckcckck Show!... Tonight we've got an archive session from those Wessex boogie merchants, Johnson's Gridling Band... "Who are they?" I hear you cry!... Well, there's THE ENTIRE TOP SHELF on non-guitar, banjo, ethnic asides and imitation jaw-harp... THE SOX THAT NEVER LAUGH contributing acoustic guitar and a caustic vocal... RABBITHOLE SAM featured on electric 6-string guitar, acoustic 6-string guitar, acoustic 12-string guitar, electric bass guitar, production, percussives, double-speed asides and noises... SNILT WEASEL (DIRECTOR), who narrates and provides angst-ridden vocals, percussion and freeform trumpet and, as you might later discover, is Mr MF, Sir... VIRGIL C. O'CONUT is the vocalist with the yokelist and - this is spooky! - is "VC On The Radio"... THE ELECTRIC PENGUIN entertains us with guitar of the slide persuasion... THE PEPPERMINT WORDSMITH sings a bit and plays keyboards, electronic and genuine erratic percussion, sound effects and devices, electronically treated cardboard tube, oh! and melodica!... JANET THE LIZARD SUITED XTREMIST will feature as Don Hedges-Brown (see how multi-faceted this stuff is?)... If there were Nobel prizes for musical comedy, then they'd win the lot!...
"We'll also have an exclusive interview with Tommy Tanks, Bill Rollins and Ike Fotheringay of EDIFICE, live at their Surrey studio... Betty Globule and her cousin, Miranda Pippette, have written in from Massey Ferguson Terrace in St Albans to say `Hey Tom! How about more Iron Bedsteads on the show?'... Well, we'll see what we can do for you ladies... Anyway, this is the first from tonight's session band and it's going out to Darren and Tina and all the Chingford headbangers... this one's called NOL MEWN MUNUD... and you KNOW that's the truth!..."
"Dear Sir... Please find enclosed our entry for the "Sounds Funny!" competition... The material submitted has been adapted from the writings of several members of Johnson's Gridling Band, a loose-knit collective of musicians, non-musicians and like-minded individuals in the Portsmouth/Gosport/Fareham areas...
"The band is dedicated to furthering the cause of their own particular brand of surreal, musically oriented humour and take their name from a Victorian tradition of busking called 'Gridling', which involved the performer singing and playing very badly, until passers-by would pay them money just to go away!... However, since their humble origins in the late sixties, the band's style has become more sophisticated, as the original members became more competent in their craft and have procured the services of other local musicians to augment the line-up...
"Although the material submitted is so far unperformed, the group have made numerous recordings of varying quality - notably a private tape, 'Firm Clothing Trolleybus'.. It was the locally distributed recording, 'The Winky Elves Are Coming!', which established the band as a marketable entity... The tape was self-financed under the 'Bruised Banana' banner. A further album project, 'The Future Of Rock & Roll', was eventually concidered too ambitious for the available recording facilities, but much of the material written and recorded for this tape is currently being recycled... some of us have been involved with other local groups, produced amusing items of promotional merchandise, performed or written material for stage shows... and we published 'The Gridler', a monthly-ish fanzine circulated locally.
"We hope you enjoy reading our submitted script... we can supply further information and tapes of some of our other efforts, on request..."
...on rasping lead guitar, all the way from Saville Row, Mr Rabbithole Sam... on turn-of-the-decade keyboards, from the Middle East of England, Mr Peppermint Wordsmith... on vocals that make you want to sing, from Mid-Atlantic City, Mr Virgil C O'Conut... on laid-back seventies acoustic guitar, Holbrook's Mr Comedy himself, Mr The Sox That Never Larf... on rainbow lizard slide guitar, from somewhere west of here, Mr The Electric Penguin... on banjo (because he's not a guitar player), from Martha's Boatyard, Mr The Entire Top Shelf... on narration and Jericho trumpet, from a ship three miles off Gosport, Mr Sniltweasel (Director)... on drums, courtesy of Silicon Valley technology, Mr Digi Taldrums...
VULTURES HUNG IN TREES, WAITING TO AGREE WITH ME (New Song For Spot)
Chicka Ho Bim Bim!
Tiddley Blam Log Cogan!
Rang Crow Third Girton!
And then, a giraffe began to sing...
Mavis gains when loris loses
Liquor lorries, leaky leggins,
Acoustic tiling tiling tiling!
Acoustic grouting pouting outing!
Granted strange filings,
Granted, I'm sure, Ooby Flag!
Go back to the playpen...
Now We Are Sixty!
Throwin' bottles at your granny, Yeah Mama!
Oob Oob Riddle Me Cranston!
Don't try to catch a river, Dennis,
Don't try to swim on a bus!
Love is like a 'lectric drill,
But without the sanding attachment.
Love can leave a hole in your heart,
Wider than a gulch.
Rag! Rag! Rangoooon!
Hey hey! I'm the Space Pilchards!
Ride a chainsaw and a rainbow,
With ears! Giant ears!
Flapping ears!
Bumper cars!
Old fruit jars!
Electric stairs!
Rangoooooons!
A broken heart can't be repaired
And neither can chopped liver.
I'm up to my elbows in love
With Marionetta Jean Christina!
I want to sing my simple song
For all the world to hear.
Some say it's far too long
And some don't.
Balloon Balloon Balloon Balloon!
Balloon Balloon Balloon!
Balloon Balloon!
Balloon!
And some don't.
Come on baby! Light my fire!
I'm a steam engine
With fur trousers!
Chopped Liver Liver Liver Liver Liver!
Take umbrage with a side-salad baby!
Danbo Rambo Doodah
Boogie with a bowl of offal.
Leftovers from my entrails
And some rice.
Innards and things!
Innards and things!
Balloon Balloon!
Back in the USSR, where they eat horses,
Donkey Balloon Liver Liver
Offal for tea!
They stroke horses, don't they?
I am If,
But you are Can't
And they are not,
Unless my ears are purple.
And all the coloured paper sang...
I'd even clean my teeth for you babe!
Sell my dog and buy a mouse for you babe!
Leave my liver on the shelf for you babe!
Learn to speak Spanish and order fruit for you babe!
And the coloured giraffes go...
Kisses sweet as yoghurt,
Lips like curry pie,
Ears like fritters,
Nose just like a signpost, baby,
To my heart!
Rangooooons!
In Suffolk, suffocating,
My heart hurts, wilts and Dorsets,
A brutish wail escapes me,
A short haul to your heart
Rangooooooooons!
Catch a subway to your feelings,
Get a taxi to your heart,
Take a jet plane to your kidneys
And still be home for lunch.
Rangooooons!
I'm a love Stratocruiser,
Instruct me where to land.
I'd really hate to lose yah
And crash down in the sand.
Send me the pillow
That Gertrude Stein was sick on!
Walk like an Egyptian,
Sit down like a Tunisian,
Hop like a frog,
Waggle your arms like a person
Who might be stuck in the fridge later on.
Shake it baby!
Drop it, maybe,
Kick it in a corner,
Over there, next to the former
Mrs Terrapinpyjama.
Rangooooooooooons!
And the colourblind dwarves go....
Oooh! Pyjama-case baby!
Zip me up in your tea-cosy of love,
Go Waaah! Yah! Eek Eek!
But don't mention geese!
Maybe it's because I'm a lung-donor,
Or maybe it's because I'm the Flatulance Beast of Ursa Landros.
Couls I borrow the price of a cuppa tea,
Jimmy? Eee Bah Goom?
Pyjama Pyjama Pyjama Banana Banana!
Liver Liver, Tunisian Frog!
Egyptian Balloon!
Trousers!
And some can't.
And the colobus monkeys say...
Simple things are often real
A dog, a cake, a cockatiel,
Some pickle or a flannel sheet,
A prickly pear and some puffed wheat.
No! Send me the pillow
That Gertrude Stein was sick on!
Rangoooon! Rangooooooooonnnnn!!!
A corbeled shirt
A pipe of nines
A mink of zeds
A ting of clootles.
And the colour photographers say:
Click clack polaroid snacks
Give a dog a wide-angle lens-cap...
Or a bone if he prefers.
Rangoon.
I'd like to knit the world a scarf
And polish it with Vim,
'Cos sticks and stones can't break my bones,
I am your Uncle Jim.
And some don't.
...I'll play my saxophone now (Toot! Toot Toooooo!! Tootle etc!) Eeeuuurgghhh! I've just trodden on a stoat!
I've just got lucky, baby!
Got a pimple duffelcoat!
Dinner dinner dinner!
Jelly jelly jelly!
Breakfast baby!
Can't catch me!
Ooh shang-a-lang!
Shang-a-lang lang lang!
Doo wah shang-a-lang!
Shang-a-wah ding lang!
I recognise that rug, it's mine!
Put your concepts on the line!
I've written up a contract for you,
To sign...
Here...
And here.
And some don't.
Go tell it to Nuke Waster!
Pervert-Head's his middle name!
Romeo Claude Agony's his only friend,
He spread the dirt on Dirty Den!
No! Send me the pillow
That Gertrude Stein was sick on!
THE ACME VIOLIN CONCERTO - A KNITTED HELL
Nasty bisons of rice pud walked over my flesh, like a "Valley Of The Moles" artfully concealed in a Wall Russ Coneway. Baron Sammy Dee and the Piglights, you're a big suck-cess now. Forgotten on a spiny tough is a Clooney pattern of drailway... Have Twangy Catarrh, Will Unravel.
Curtaining Leopold Sharks, O'Doris? Mink plaits rub slowly together, towards pole vaults. Crinkly stoats are the goat's proboscis, for tinglish literature in a placcy bag... Quick! Lick the quick, slick Flarmack Tiremesanon, Brute Lamination Light Mackerind out of Stoving Marines... Madness is a battery-matress, 'cos it's more tubular... Drink Overturn!
"Buy rubber, Sock Face?"
"Filings of coal, Necrogonad!"
Little stuporburgers, idolise my sacred Cremola room, in liquid of crushed teddy-bear extensions, by the tube. Pointed circles weave Russians in the air. Air containers exude cardboard for a day.
Queerly in a fence, or very nearly in Stork-Classical style, other people like us. We've got to work in the coat mines, smattering gaslighters before the moonshot grates, cleanly across a westering hillock organisation, before you forgoat the Clavimex-less overmoat... Lighter toadcoal of sobernote-caliomeristogallorine dineutrolthecollitscrineofatoad... semaphore, of course... Bogor addressed the envelope, "Hello Envelope! Is this a dale-caneism? Oh my mormon shaggy batterfreak... Hanif, would you like to slay a few herds?"
All my Groenheims, soon be over
Ragged Fischerenhafen to my head!
Firmerschin Muke Burglarstadt is a shady giant
And Soda-Goat the Harmerling Crove...
No! Send me the pillow
That Gertrude Stein was sick on!
Dum!
At the Carburettor Cabaret,
I'm the Bossa Vauxhall Nova, Yeah!
Let's celebrate Fiesta day
And party down on Frisco Bay!
Sophisticated tap routine with cane ensues... "Solid gold, these legs, Missus! Heh heh!"... Up-modulate to the next part of our Melody Of Medleys... See about the persons' memories coming in from space... Inquire politely the way to Four-Two Pillar Avenue, see my secrets being inwardly consumed...
I'm a sex machine
A Brylcreemed dream
A casino boy from the backstreets of Naples,
But I've made it big with Zaza and Mable
By putting my aces on the table,
Yeah yeah!
But Mother, the cat's just eaten all the Hula-Hoops!
...and The Violent-Red Egg Moth is just emerging from its coccoon in the London offices of J. Quagmire & Sons. This highly-specialized creature lives exclusively on the blood of Managing Directors, which it sucks out through their shoelaces... The Broken-Leg Baboon has evolved in safari parks, where its pitiful natural limp ensures it a fine diet of scraps, thrown to it by the sympathetic visitors.
Oh! She's handy with a shammy
And she's useful with a sponge,
She's a dab-hand with an air-line
When me carb is full of gunge!
She's me dear ol' dutch!
She's the gearbox, I'm her clutch!
...Heh heh! That's the chorus... All join in next time! See the names of my parents scrawled on a wall, see the string-bag that holds a whole town, hear my shout like a blow on a rubber tom- tom. "For Lent, I promise not a single green dog shall pass my door..."
When me hubcap needs a polish
I just give the rag to her
And she'll sit and work for hours,
Like a child, without a "ker"!
She's a carwash queen!
She keeps me Rover nice and clean!
"I thought I had stumbled on a spy-ring, but no! It was just a crack in the pavement...
"Wot larks! Eh, Mr Evans-Evans? Wot larks?"
"Them larks over there, with their tongues in the aspic!"
Oh! She's handy with a shammy
And she's useful with a sponge,
She's a dab-hand with an air-line
When me carb is full of gunge!
She's me dear ol' dutch!
Yeah! She's the gearbox, I'm her clutch!
Talc of the Devil, I believe I've overslept the mark... The sinister rattling of tickets in a hat, was just the horse rustling his chains. Scotch bat-handlers with rubber-bound legs are all sound and fusette... Sifters sifting, sifted sand, she's not a nymphomaniac, just sexually normal on a massive scale... When you're faced with bricks, the only safe course to take is the damp- course.
Oh! She's handy with a shammy
And she's useful with a sponge,
She's a dab-hand with an air-line
When me carb is full of gunge!
She's me dear ol' dutch!
Said she's that gearbox, I'm her clutch!
Chin Chin! Zano Zano! Look at me! I'm a casual observer! Make way! Make way for the Chelsea Puma, leaving a trail of white powder, wherever it goes, the feral God of "As Seen On TV" unreality... With the Chelsea Puma, you never wake up to find a beetle in your brassiere, you shrug off the need to own a Hoover...
In the evening, when we snuggle up,
I look deep into her eyes!
She tells me I'm her favourite
And suddenly I realise
That it's Wednesday night at half-eleven
And I have to clean me car!
...Like shrugging off a flimsy negligee for a lover with brown, polished muscles and a glass brain... Tell me, do you find it hard to hold onto the practical, while hoping for the impossible? Can you remember to write a note for the milkman before going away to Monte Carlo?
Oh! She's handy with a shammy
And she's useful with a sponge,
She's a dab-hand with an air-line
When me carb is full of gunge!
She's my little dutch!
She's the gearbox, I'm that ol' clutch!
And the smell of burning fruitbats
Hung heavy in the air!
At the Struggling Yak A-Go-Go Club,
The disco was playing
Don't Stand So Colostomy!
...Thank you! Thank you! Heh heh! Eeeh, I've got to introduce the next act now... But before I do, I'd like to leave you with this thought - "Why do people stand up in sit-coms?"
One mo' time, Oh! She's handy with that ol' shammy, Yeah!
And she's kinda useful when it comes to a sponge,
She's sure dab-hand around an air-line, Bwaaah!
When y'jus' know that ol' carb is jam-tuckered full of gunge!
She's me dear ol' dutch!
Said she's that gearbox, Jus' call me her ol' clutch!
Dink! Dink Dink Waaaaaaahhhhh!
HOW THE TORTOISE SHEDS ITS SHELL
The cold wind stood in ruins as we watched our approach. The City of New York, embarrassed as ever to admit of its existence, was not where we expected to find it. I had read much about New York in books by authors who found it impossible to describe. I had expected it to be a place, perhaps inhabited by ambulatory bipeds such as ourselves.
Here, eternity flows out through the back of a guitar, cardboys drive desires along highways of seaweed, Hammer Vision is the son of An Electric Balloon and A Fossilised Ice Bucket.
Now try jumping out of the casket into the queue... You'll win a Frazer blade, a luminous baitworm and a rateable languid doom... You put your foot in my mind, you leave a list of intelligent fish in my underwear.
Galveston Oh Galveston... Conductors of fire appear behind glass, kinda like a slave-angel brooding on the road to frenzied anaesthetic... then they meet The Old Grey Donkey In The Sky.
"Hello! I'm Roger The Starling and I want to tell you about New Rancid Hedgehog Sauce! You can crush it between books, you can squirt it on passing Maltesers, you can amaze it with conjuring tricks, you can shape it into a resemblence of Ricky Nelson, you can take it for walks through a subway, or you can just watch it crawl across your counterpane with its eyes in a handcart."
Be appalled by the cheerful enthusiasm of a retired poet. It's hard getting a giraffe down on graphite. Galveston Oh Galveston... Photochrome II is like a drug-crazed roller-coaster or paradise in the back row of a hedge. Buddhist monks have accidents with Ronson lighters. If you think you're a bonsai aerodrome, you could be as pure as the driven mucus. Pumas, dressed in cast-off rabbit skins, dissolve all traces of carbon electric spaniels, feeling three-inches more like a green bard every minute... Waterbourne-borne rugs with Westphalian super-saviours... as the tide crashes over the bodies of the tinned squid, they sink into reality and its total meaninglessness. The sun itself becomes nothing but a bright electric squid, dancing in an arbour of tin saints from Zoroaster to the edges of its County Council feet. So the Nautical Fish has grown a moustache and has attached himself to New York City.
Galveston Oh Galveston...
Oh Galveston...
The Mode Of Crazed Delirium, in coleslaw tights and black-out cabins, exudes sunshine heeby-jeebies and a reduction in your consumption of bats. To be afraid of something, To have one foot in the dustbin, To have degenerated into a fish, To go to school and eat fish.
Sparse grass and a camel-hair wig jostling on her scalp, Suzanna Kaminsky, with her collection of pressed fish, accumulates value in a corrugated gold waste-dispunk.
Galveston Oh Galveston... Torpedoes boast about their inside central-harvesting. Take the sunrise piece off the cheeseboard, don't fidget while I interrogate this empty can of petticoats, its legs flapping like a cat's through a mangle. To make the supreme sacrifice, to go where no man has defacated before...
Bognor Oh Bognor... Bognor Oh Bognor! Home of antiques and the moment of rag-buying, wet mothers coming at you out of the screen... "But Ernie! That's not a 3D-TV, that's a real mother who's been imprisoned in that TV for a hundred years!"
Go on! Apply a blowlamp to next door's cat! Go on! Hit the igloo in the deep-freeze cabinet! Lunge, fish, lunge! Umbrellatron Forcicles, a passing show for the Greatyard Labels and the Dirt Police, do you want to join the modern germs and become a van-in-a-lake or a body built into tears in a polythene sack? Total Sprinter, try to get near it, put your ear to it, try to hear it...
CAST IRON FUN TALKS
Put your mind behind a fibreglass wall and fire!
Put your head under a wheel and tyre!
Carpet errogenous zones glaze timeless phones
Canvas vastness stretched and stapled to our ears
The flapping of our screaming
The slap and pop of tubes
We have moolied all our granite
We have mumbled in our stone.
"Well thanks for that little number, Uncle Frank! Hello kiddies, are you having a nice time? Say "Hello Uncle Jim!"
The audience stirs from its slumber just long enough to mutter a not-too-enthusiastic "Hello Uncle Jim!". The compere continues to recite the same sad oratory he has delivered for nigh-on forty years.
"Ah! That's lovely! Well we've got another great turn for you now... are you all ready? (murmers of "yeah...", "suppose so...", "nah.." from the tiny gathering) We've got a really great turn on now, they're great, they're called Johnson's Gridling Band and they're going to do a few numbers for you, to take us up to the bingo, so here they are, they're great, JOHNSON'S GRIDLING BAND!"
The audience, naturally, all three of them, go apeshit! The dynamic rocking combo leap to the ramshackle stage, one of them announces "Hello! We're Johnson's Gridling Band and we offer you A SANE ALTERNATIVE TO SWANAGE!"
WHO CARES ANYWAY? HERE'S AN "ART-REMEDY" FOR ALL THIS COMMERCIALISM
Pale Definitive Mutilation
Pale Mutation Delivery
The Horse Umbrella
Yule Tide On A Clean Sea
Clensee Clone Sea Clan Sea
Sweat Wrestled
Named As Before
If and When, If and When and If
And When and If and When and If
And When
I Saw Mummy Killing Santa Claus
Tin-Faced Onion Breath
Retain The Feelybob Drill
And Inculcate
The Lonesome Duplicity
Of
Pale Definitive Mutilation
Pale Black Horse Open Sleigh
Ah! That's better!
So then kiddies, you've had yer fill! Spot The Gibbering Toad, Shelfy The Entire Top Human Craig Douglas Rabbitshow Reject Bear, Janet The Lizard Suited Xtremist, The Gold Lamé Skeleton aka Mumbling Jack Unitroba, The Sox That Never Larf, Sniltweasel (Director), Virgil Tunnicliffe C O'Conut, Mr Rabbithole "Wild Man of Thelpis" Sam, The Pedantic Peppermint Pedestrian Wordsmith, Mervyn "Dirk Thrust" Purviss, Aldeburgh "Crab Boat Boy" Rathbone and Binky the Human Renegade Nail have, to best of my recollection, been responsible for all or some of the words read by you over the preceding weeks. If I've missed anyone out, do let me know - That's the great thing about this new-fangled digital form of publishing, you can go back and add things later! They were subsequently Schwittered away into the form you see before you, by yours Mintilly, during a cold Vicarage winter in the mid-nineties. A special smoo-cheesy thank you to THE EVIL DEMENTED BUNNY for all your words of encouragement and for sticking with it! Dysfunctional tags: montage, binky, the entire top shelf, shelfy, human nail, pedantic, spot, virgil tunnicliffe c o'conut, rabbithole sam, aldeburgh, crab boat boy, sniltweasel (director), human craig douglas, anarchaeology, pedestrian, mervyn, The Gold Lamé Skeleton, dirk thrust, wordsmith, mumbling jack unitroba, merz, collage, renegades, peppermint, gibbering toad, dada, rathbone, gridling, janet the lizard suited xtremist, purviss, the sox that never larf - Coming Soon: THE PLAY!!!
Minty,
ReplyDeleteCrangibus Aquatae Sum!
Snilt
Minty,
ReplyDeleteCrangibus Aquatae Sum!
Snilt