Consumed a Molly, I doth perspire.

Arose from my slumber within a new Bugatti.

My smooth dairy product attracts all the gentlemen to the recreational field and they announce "It's superior to thine".

I shalt pop some tags, only possess 20 shillings within my pocket.

Rack village, wench, rack rack village, wench. Ten, ten, ten twenties on thy bosoms, wench.

Which individual takes residence within thy sub-aquatic pineapple fruit? Sponge Robert Square Pantaloons.

Stroll into the establishment like, "How art thou? I hath a large phallus."

To thine window, to thine wall, 'til the perspiration descends downward from my genitalia.

To be, or not to be?

Bitch, I might be.

I knew thou were a nuisance when thou entered the vicinity.

Lamborghini mercy, thy female companion doth require a beverage.

Halt! The time of hammer is upon thee.

The female hath fruit-bottomed denim pantaloons, heavy footwear adorned with animal skin.

Wench, refrain from slaying my vibe.

Doth thou even hoist?

I fashion the garments worn by thy grandfather. I look splendid.

Female genitalia, currency, herbs.

They see me operating my motor vehicle. They art prejudiced.

I hath acquired 99 predicaments, alas a wench cannot be regarded as one.

Goodness gracious, Rebecca, observe thy gluteus maximus.