Chris Cardell :: Direct Fail Marketing

Fee-fi-fo-fum,
I smell the blood of an Englishman,
Be he alive, or be he dead
I’ll grind his bones to make my bread.

Oh children’s poetry :: how horrifying you are! Bones to bread? He’s already a fucking giant … isn’t that scary enough?

Anywayz :: at long last :: an Englishman. This one’s for you Steven Gerrard {call me!} …

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