Here is a piece of fine poetry by Belinda Cockbox about yours truly, Robyn I suggest you give this one a miss.
Sunday 22 October 2006
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Here is a piece of fine poetry by Belinda Cockbox about yours truly, Robyn I suggest you give this one a miss.
10 comments:
That's the most beautiful thing I've read in ages.
She'd better not quit her day job! Sounds like love knudsen?
You know, when you tell someone NOT to read something, what do you think they're going to do?
dive no scary goth girls but it hits the mark.
babsbitchin her day job is writing cards for hallmark, could you tell? she loves a lot of people, its a dirty wrong kind of love.
robyn don't read this comment.
there are not words to describe the up-chuckage I convulsed with upon reading the ode de knudson.
silly silly girl for thinking, "really how bad could it be"...
i've learned my lesson. :P
Poor girl, the world is a foul and dirty place. I seem to bring out the primal in some weemen, its my curse.
the poor gel should ken how dirty and foul it is -- she lives in america for christ's sake.
yer curse, old knudsen? seems to me, ye wear it more as a badge of honor.
She'll soon find out by commenting on my blog thats for sure, soon her own posts will be filled with bad grammar and swearing as her lust for Old Knudsen takes over, you can see the same thing happening to Robyn.
Nice Slavic accent.
my accent? it's yer ain tongue ye thrawn devilish wee man. ye are lippin-fou wit megrims an hae unricht torries as tae who I am.
asides, if ye ween i'm a slav, wadna it be talkin slovak?
ye war naur but aff the gleg, knudson.
I know who you are, but I am pretty sure my ain tongue is in my ain head.
The Slav bit was meant to be an insult.
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