I call shot glasses, rose tip, hip and tinted for the great Scott himself, the ace in the rabbit hole. I an odd Gordon to his galley and more than happy to be, quality carrot street, wonderland wizard, whom’s work I’ll be following to the end. No steps into Nolan’s land, a revenger, not avenger , a heroes welcome, prometheus predicament, sure why not throw in a comical dread. Mr rabbit you imprison me, without your drawings each and every time. Robots, Cargot and best beef buffed and served in the finest way British can buy.
The most timely, politest gent you ever did meet, production at the speed of the limelight Lapin in quality hop step, all hot off the shelves with fair comment. Cementing all others, second to none. London bridge is bloating, crowding, all from the old British tradition of queuing before the animal orifice home..for the rabbit man to be bought…brought out into the wild… I call shot glasses, rose