A bed similar to the one I got out of just now only without the strumpet lyingsemi naked across it with wanton eyes and lovely boobies.
As we all know of course today is the Portuguese MotoGP and I myself enjoy this. I will watch it while eating Jelly Babies and I suggest you do too. The thing about it is, while F1 is for show ponies in Gucci shades who eat sushi and sleep on futons, MotoGP is actually racing for men.
Men. Chaps who would sooner staple their testicles to a dining room table than eat something that isn't bleeding. It's been four weeks since the last race as those silly Japanesers went and had most of the northern part of their country destroyed by God who was angry at them for all the alien schoolgirl cartoon rape porn they churn out over there.
The riders appear to have gone even more mental during this month long hiatus and have started arguing with each other just because it's something to do. This tension coupled with the unpredictable weather in Portugal and the enormous hair of Marco Simoncelli means controversy is afoot.
I have gotten out of bed early for this. Nap time will be postponed for a few hours. I will not however be watching Arsenal probably beat Manchester United as I have no more tears. Arsenal can only win when there's no pressure.
I will mostly be betting on Liverpool, Manchester City, Birmingham and Jorge Lorenzo to win the MotoGP race. And why not?
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