Dunnos, like, you seem to be over-responding to every singular, surgical incision I make.
Redouble yourself. You're clearly incapable of beating me with word or wit. Every club-footed lurch you make towards sense or credibility sucks you execrably back into the mire.
Perhaps you'd like to beat me with a stick, or something? A dildo, perhaps? Would that make you feel better?
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