Now if this is a joke then 'fess up now, because you are traceable, Fuck the Pape.

I like jokes still. I used to like hot-dogs. I used to like poems. I'm guessing onions or ketchup or imambic pentameter, though they all stink on our breathe.
Jesus, ftp, I am gong to eat bits of several pigs tommorow cos of you unless you tell me the difference.. Then I'll write a poem blaming you. That was a spiteful coment. "Who wakes up to the smell of cornflakes" - well, anyone who doesn't have bacon shoved down their throats.

That was nasty of you. Think porridge Danny, think porridge. Maybe some sugar tomorow instead of salt. Bad FTP. Bad.