the cops the mob the broads
Police checkpoint close to home tonight.
I've spent the past few months vowing to be a lot less polite to the cops after my encounter with the corrupt thuggish ones back in July.
Now I wound down my window.
A buxom blonde policewoman of the female sexual gender with sensual mouth and breasts sort of thing, leaned towards me.
"Where are you going sir?" she said.
"Just heading home Garda," I replied.
"Thank you sir. Goodnight."
"Thank you Garda. Good to know you're here."
As if butter wouldn't melt in my mouth.
I have no honour.
I've spent the past few months vowing to be a lot less polite to the cops after my encounter with the corrupt thuggish ones back in July.
Now I wound down my window.
A buxom blonde policewoman of the female sexual gender with sensual mouth and breasts sort of thing, leaned towards me.
"Where are you going sir?" she said.
"Just heading home Garda," I replied.
"Thank you sir. Goodnight."
"Thank you Garda. Good to know you're here."
As if butter wouldn't melt in my mouth.
I have no honour.
posted by heelers | 2:57 AM
2 Comments:
No honour but perfect spelling, I like that in a man.
My perfect spelling is the secret of my super powers.
J
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