No. It’s gorgeous Boy Georgie Porgie, puddin’, pie, cake, candy, ice cream, and anything else he can fit in his mouth hole!
I can’t lie to myself. I’d let him hit it with a rusty chain while I’m tied to his radiator. I bet he smells like powdered donuts and turkey gravy. I kind of just want to nestle into his chins o’plenty. And his chichis probably rival Aretha Franklin’s. Swooooon.
Here’s BG leaving his house in London today to visit the ATM. You know what he’s getting money for. I just hope the bitch he bought knows how to pick a lock with his tongue.