Merry Christmas to you and yours. May you have a Christmas away from Patrick Manning. You may be wondering how I know it is Christmas. The answer is right here.
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Merry Christmas my ass!
You never tell me you going London. I had two bag of buss up shut, dhal puri, a tawah, a cocoyea broom, two sapat, a pack of tambran ball, three bottle of Vat, a case of Carib, a small box of red mango and a piece of skin from Dole Chadee rope to send for … you know who … in London.
Don’t forget to top-up my account there. Lynette tell me it was running low last time she buy Botox on the internet.
Don’t forget to get the pills for me, right? The ones for the gray hairs. Not the purple one. Lynette order that from Amazon for me already. It coming on DHL next week. I hope the farse and out of place delivery people dont open it up like the last time.
Anyway, doh do me that again okay? You knows how we love London.
They still have the black Mercedes that Oma uses to like to pack she fat bamsee in? The driver does still wear that stupid hat and white gloves?
They must be think you and Oma is knife and fork Indian from Trinidad. Like they dont know you is a working class champion and friend of the poor peasant Caroni class.
Is just that you could afford all this London trip. That is the only difference.
Anyway, I still love you.
season greetings peeps…
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