Oh no! Can I arks you a question, this rip-off holden is as sweet as a tapu morepork. Mean while, in Queenstown, Mr Whippy and Jim Hickey were up to no good with a bunch of paru All Blacks. The flat stick force of his rooting was on par with Maui's hammered chilly bin. Put the jug on will you bro, all these pretty suss old man's beards can wait till later. No wucken forries. Got a dollar for the bus?, fully, nek minnit. The first prize for wobbling goes to... Fred Dagg and his snarky kai, what a hottie. Bro, pohutukawa trees are really bung good with sweet as pieces of pounamu, aye. You have no idea how choice our beautiful wifebeater singlets were aye. Every time I see those hard yakka pavlovas it's like the beach all over again aye, Morningside for life. Do you wanna chip bro? You know i can't eat your ghost chips, cool story bro, rack off. Anyway, Rangi is just James and the Giant Peach in disguise, to find the true meaning of life, one must start whale watching with the Swanndri, mate.

After the wet blanket is rooted, you add all the stuffed native vegetables to the Edmonds Cook Book you've got yourself a meal. Technology has allowed thermo-nuclear treaties to participate in the global conversation of hard case whanaus. The next Generation of solid rimu eggs have already cooked over at the dairy. What's the hurry Manus Morissette? There's plenty of utes in behind the bicycle shed. Pack n' Save holds the most chronic community in the country..

James Cook was cooking up a feed when the rip-off whinging event occured. I'm not here to frack spiders, this cool scarfie is as kiwi as as a chocka full seabed. Mean while, in the Four Square supermarket, Tama and Helen Clarke were up to no good with a bunch of same same but different Silver Ferns. The bloody force of his skiving off was on par with Bazza's stink Tui. Put the jug on will you bro, all these rough as guts Jafas can wait till later. The first prize for rooting goes to... Sir Edmond Hillary and his pearler kea, what a ankle biter. Don't be a egg, till the cows come home. Bro, quater-acre patches are really wicked good with random bottles of tomato sauce, aye. Spit the dummy, not even au. You have no idea how outrageously awesome our heaps good Longest Drinks in Town were aye. Every time I see those primo foreshore and seabed issues it's like smoko time all over again aye, cook me some eggs. Anyway, Mrs Falani is just Rhys Darby in disguise, to find the true meaning of life, one must start chundering with the trotie, mate.

After the hangi is skived off, you add all the buzzy whitebait fritters to the pinapple lump you've got yourself a meal. Technology has allowed mint pukekos to participate in the global conversation of crook twink sticks. The next Generation of naff sad guys have already flogged over at the op shop. What's the hurry The Hungery Caterpilar? There's plenty of toasted sandwiches in the bushes. Castle Hill holds the most sweet as community in the country.. Spot, the Telecom dog was burning my Vogel's when the mean as packing a sad event occured. I was just at home having some dots...., this stoked kumara is as beaut as a beached as brain drain. Mean while, in Shortland Street, Lomu and Dr Ropata were up to no good with a bunch of cracker sheeps. Speights, pride of the south for over 100 years, more drugs, more threesomes, knocked the bastard off. The nuclear-free force of his reffing the game was on par with some uni student's fully sick chocolate fish. Put the jug on will you bro, all these dodgy kiwis can wait till later.

Don't be a sad guy, share Kiwipsum with your friends