The first was the product of a destructive hard line down the middle by Manu Tuilagi, which sucked in the Australian defence and stretched the cover further out, allowing Farrell and Curry to put May over in the left corner.
Ay, how fine they be in their liveries, and each of 'em as full of meat as an egg, and as sleek and as round about as a mellow codlin.
It would start, then stall, then start again with a blurp, while clouds of blue smoke and sickening gas fumes polluted the air.
No one realized that propane gas was leaking from a rusty tank in the concession area, slowly filling the unventilated room.
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