"Don't panic, but fill up every last jerry can you can find with petrol." The big soft wet get. He's just too shiny isn't he that bloke? Never trust a man in who's forehead you can see your own reflection, that's what me Dad always says. I'd send him a polished pooh on a plinth if I could afford the stamp. They're not even holding strike talks until Monday the lazy bastards. The British do love a good queue though don't they? Any pissing excuse, and they're out there in force today, the stupid sheep-like dickheads queueing round the block for the right to drain the pumps dry at the highest prices that petrol has ever been. It's a good job the kids are off school next week or they'd never be able to get in would they? "Dear Sir, sorry that Paris, Chantelle and Leonardo couldn't come in today, my fucking enormous 3 miles to the gallon top of the range Land Rover Sport has run out of petrol and as we live 3/4 of a mile away it's simply impossible for the poor little bastards to attend. Ciao, Jemima Farquharson-Smethwick."
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