so i'm walking home alone after another night of unsuccessful pulling of bitches and i decide to phone some people as it makes walking home easier. so first alphabetically is danB, who speaks some form of english i don't understand.
next is manker the cunt. the first call goes to answering machine, so i figure the whole "you're a welsh gaylord" type of call is a bit dated. i notice some old milfs across the road, so i figure they can leave manker a message "you welsh cunt" and approach them. i redial mankers number and he fucking answers, i repeatedly tell him to hang up, he ignores the requests and says something about the leek tax in his valley. i pass the phone to the biatches who keep saying "he's not gay" to his questions. the moral of the story is i would have been on a promise had he not been such a tattie muching slag mining pot noodle swallowing gavin henson sooking perma tanned cawk boy who likes pics of mens pants.