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:: Saturday 19 April 2003 ::
Hey, Patrol
Camille Barbagallo. Wog. Idiot.
Victory at the Baxter Detention Centre is getting past a police line. Past the police. That is all. Just Camille and her mates getting past police lines.
Pathetic.
I wonder if her father is the fabulous iron-fellow who made our beautifully ornate front gates all those years ago? A real artisan, him. Pity this gal's such an idiot. Imagine driving all that way into the desert just to give yourself an orgasm over how righteous you are. Sarandonism, I call it. It is a disease of the spirit, whereby you imagine yourself to be the centre of the universe, where the sun follows you as you move about, and where every act you undertake is laden, by you, with importance and profundity. And where you only spend time in the company of like thinkers.
Camille is a patrol.
As in moll patrol.
Patrol.
Wog. Rhyming. Slang.
UPDATE: I just googled her. How embarrassing. Trades Hall Council involvement, Stop CHOGM protests. This nut is a disgrace.
Pecorona. Sheep.
:: WB 5:59 pm [link+] ::
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