I should not want to forget the gourd, for this seems to me the clown of vinedom, imitating as it does in grotesque manner other fruits.

He was a normal horny boy who flogged the log with the best of them.

Surrounded by a chorus of beautiful women, he jackhammered his way about the stage, rocking his pelvis and occasionally flourishing his hands in a vaguely flamencolike manner.

Turn my blick around and make it right cuz it's my turn – out