3 Whitehall Snort,
London,
SW1A 2EL
Eunuched Kingdumb
Tel: + 44 209 766 3454
Fax: + 44 207 001 1381
Genital enquiries: info@un.org.uk
Gender switching: membership@una.org.uk
Customer Soivice that don't care........... unceffoff@gmail.com
Attention. At ease.
I am writing you if not even for the porpoise of the transgender but
also for the porpoise of spreading and sharing the gossamer of finalypus
with you and I will be most delighted if you also permit me to do some
bunghole fingering of my own.
As an Adult of dubious antecedence, I want to believe you Must have seen
people who need people are the silliest people in the world...if they latch onto
someone like you.
Have you ever asked yourself is it good to be fish with the hollandaise?
What of it if it is you? Have you ever sought grammar checks of the prose
you are creating from a fly-infested internet cafe in some Third World
craphole? Did you ever wonder about a deity that would allow the
creation of a Rubix cube?
How dare you fart and rob Greta Thunberg of her childhood. We eat
cows on account of this.
Heaven is real and hell is real. The Gong Show was real until cancelled.
If the networks cancelled Heaven or Hell tomorrow, would you choose
Newark? And if so, as which?
The Law of Nature truly exist, and democraps tend toward being
violations of every natural law of Nature. Epstein didn't kill himself,
and Adam Schiff violates crustaceans.
Sir/Ma'am/gender-neutral non-binary octosexual orthopod/et al, I will
be happy if you, having digested this to now, will also welcome me preaching
to you in assorted languages that abound on the planet Uranus, a place where
the DNC keeps their heads buried.
Concerning this transaction, it is surreal, imaginational and the natural
equivalent of a cancerous butt polyp. And I am assigned as a Eunuched Nation
reprehensible to mishandle the transaction of your behalf.
Firstly, you must achieve the ability to fart the Bohemian Rhapsody song in
c-sharp. You must indicate whether you are hairy fingerer or cosmic muffin.
You must be able to explain how that you are a fluke of the universe, you
have no right to be here, and whether you know it or not, the universe is
laughing behind your back. You must indicate through Azerbaijani braille
your choice of paper or plastic, tastes great or less filling, anal or oral sex
with a tree stump. Once you've so chosen, I look forward to hear from you.
Please do not forget to always read your junk email and pray and I will be
there, being sodomized by an animated bassalope from Bloom County.
That is, if you will welcome the idea of also sharing a fallopian tube
with my local militia mortar company, who've found the cardboard tubes
from toilet paper to be wholly inadequate to the porpoise.
Waiting for your terrible swift sword to split a tofurkey from hat to belt.
Sign of the Management: Gorkus. That's two buzzards colliding in mid-air.
Antonio Guterres
That seems to have ended any kind of discussion about anything with Antonio Guterres.
Yes, it's 2020. And nothing's changed in Scamland.