You know what I hate? Dress makers pins. THEY HURT! Bloody tailors. Need to 'fit the dress' properly my arse! It not my fault that my mum is very pregnant and has nothing better to do at this time than get nit picky about my bloody dress, but don't take it out on me and use me as a ruddy pin cushion
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I dunno, what's good in France? Maybe you can show me around.
I want to see you now, at this minute. I miss you.
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What's good in France? What isn't? Sounds like a plan to me. Anywhere, I'd say the sky's the limit, but we can fly so it doesn't really count.
Do you now? I miss you too. Maybe you could beat these people up for me so they'd stop poking me. Hopefully I won't be black and blue when I see you next.
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Why are people poking you? That sounds very strange. I sincerely hope this poking is kept to a bare minimum until I get there. Then I can poke you myself, in a manner of speaking.
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Dress fitting. The little pins they use? Well they seem to like to use me as a cushion believe it or not! Oh really? Yes, well this is a little bit different than that sort of poking. I enjoy your poking much more. One might almost say, I miss it? Perhaps...
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