Neon, get your fucking white arse out of hiding, girl. Haven't seen you since this morning. Best not be larking about with anyone I don't know
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Oh, my poor, deluded Tra-tra... Surely I've taught you you're only responsible to yourself, yeah? Seems to be, love-cheeks, that if you're getting a bit on the bounty side of things, you've only got yourself to blame, yeah?
Just because you can't be as fantastically G-I-R-L-shaped as me, don't comfort eat, alright? I couldn't love a fatty.
I went out to get you a bag of sweets, sweets, but I suppose I'll have to withhold them from you: you're going on a diet of sex and cigarettes, stat!
Calorie counting is for anorexics, but I haven't been eating anything more than usual, have I? And all that running from the fucks in blue, think that'd do the trick. What am I to think but that someone's sabotaging my efforts? Saw a docudrama on feeders while I was inside - if your tastes lie in that direction, you can fuck right off. I'm wrong, I'm not THAT wrong.
Yeah, whatever... Denial is a killer, they say. You've been sneaking sugar gobs, and you know it. A Mars Bar here, a tub of lard there... It's the only way, isn't it?
Who else could it be? Weren't me, was it? I like them sleek and slender, don't I? Noticed you were a bit on the balloon side while I watched you dress the other day.
We could get you a moo-moo, piggy: a silver one with sequins on the edges. You could still be in Kraftwerk... At the back, like, in amongst the drums where you'd be invisible, yeah?
Don't be starting an argument, because ripping your hair out is a great way to exercise, or so I'm thinking. I eat as much as I ever do, only when coming up for air.
I'm not a fucking balloon! We're talking an extra half-inch around the waist AT THE MOST. Is this your plan? Some kind of fucked up punishment for whatever? Desperate for attention, you, even if you have to take out your old bandmate to do it. Spotlight all to yourself - except you'll need two to illuminate all your girth, elephant woman.
Bigging me up to make yourself feel better, not on. The dent in the middle of the mattress isn't from MY lardy arse.
Keeping an eye on you. Sweets are in the cistern, sure your obvious lack of self-respect means you'll eat them anyway.
Herself keeps this up, we won't be doing any gigs, because one of us will have a knife in her eye.
Fine by me, boyslut. Some KO fans have turned to the cock as their sole source of nutrition, suppose we could give them some eye candy to look at. Have to do you up, of course. You in for that?
Fucking...on HER side? Right, boy wonder. Consider your arse marked, and I'm not talking about highlighter pen. Scars, tattoos, branding iron - next time I see you, you'll be seen.
Ultra is not a fucking lardarse. Same weight as ever I was, and I'll prove it, if I have to cut up every one of you myopic pisstaking wankers to do it.
Consider me slightly peeved, and your request to take the stage taking my fancy less and less.
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Just because you can't be as fantastically G-I-R-L-shaped as me, don't comfort eat, alright? I couldn't love a fatty.
I went out to get you a bag of sweets, sweets, but I suppose I'll have to withhold them from you: you're going on a diet of sex and cigarettes, stat!
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Maybe I should take more coke.
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Who else could it be? Weren't me, was it? I like them sleek and slender, don't I? Noticed you were a bit on the balloon side while I watched you dress the other day.
We could get you a moo-moo, piggy: a silver one with sequins on the edges. You could still be in Kraftwerk... At the back, like, in amongst the drums where you'd be invisible, yeah?
As for more coke: reach for the stars, Ultra.
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I'm not a fucking balloon! We're talking an extra half-inch around the waist AT THE MOST. Is this your plan? Some kind of fucked up punishment for whatever? Desperate for attention, you, even if you have to take out your old bandmate to do it. Spotlight all to yourself - except you'll need two to illuminate all your girth, elephant woman.
Bigging me up to make yourself feel better, not on. The dent in the middle of the mattress isn't from MY lardy arse.
Keeping an eye on you. Sweets are in the cistern, sure your obvious lack of self-respect means you'll eat them anyway.
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You reckon I could come and play with you, if you do any gigs or anything? I'm shit-hot on the kazoo, you know.
I don't think you're fat at all! Maybe a bit less Bowie than usual, but going on what I saw the other day, you look well healthy!
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Fine by me, boyslut. Some KO fans have turned to the cock as their sole source of nutrition, suppose we could give them some eye candy to look at. Have to do you up, of course. You in for that?
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Depends! I sort of don't need giving any more scars, so what did you have in mind, girly?
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Ultra is not a fucking lardarse. Same weight as ever I was, and I'll prove it, if I have to cut up every one of you myopic pisstaking wankers to do it.
Consider me slightly peeved, and your request to take the stage taking my fancy less and less.
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Oh, that's right: Neonazi.
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Shame, considering it wasn't funny the first time you said it.
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The fact that you disapprove makes me want her all the more.
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