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Farm Girl Super Moda

Farm Girl Super Moda


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Farm Girl Super Moda Description

Farm Girl Super Moda, Farm Girl Super Moda Games, Play Farm Girl Super Moda Games

Ha! I’ll build a brick bunker in the garden, then. (That’d be lovely.) What do you reckon, Ette? Ho-ho-ho! Oh, Ernest, it’s far too big. I’ll make some nice loose covers. Came out of a posh hotel. A bargain! I’ve made a curtain for under the tank. It’ll hide the pipes. I’ll keep my outdoor clothes there. The pipes will dry them off. Oh, but your coats smell of stale milk, Ernest. Yeah, sorry. Do you think you’ll ever be promoted? I blooming fear. Not me. Yard foreman, stuck in a tin shed all day, adding up rows of figures? Blow that for a lark. I like the fresh air! I could have married Games a deep-sea diver. Well, why didn’t you? Because Games I didn’t love him. Why do you keep that picture of a baby on the wall? SHE GASPS Why do you think? Well, it’s not a relative, is it? We’ve been married over two years. I’ll soon be . SHE CRIES Oh. Eh. Don’t cry. I’m sorry. SHE SOBS Oh, shush, shush, shush. Mm. I know. I know. RAIN FALLS Evening Standard. Night news, night news. Hitler wins power in Germany. Here you go, Rich. Ta, Ern. Evening Standard. Oh, no. Hitler wins power in Germany. This bloke, Adolf Hitler, says they’re publishing his book over here. Mein Kampf, it’s called. Oh! That’s nice of him. Huh? Ette! Surprise, dear. Oh. New mirror! It’s lovely. How ever did you get it home? I walked it back on my bike pedal. How much was it? Only half a dollar. I got it off of didicoy down-home. I’ve got a surprise for you too. Oh, yes? I’ve been to Games um Games the doctor. Oh Games And? You mean? Mm. We’re Games ? Yeah. We’re going to Games ? Yippee! I can’t believe it. Oh, Ette! THEY LAUGH Happy birthday, darling. Oh, Ernest. And your card. They get bigger every year. This one is all padded. SHE LAUGHS Bit my best present isn’t due until January. HE LAUGHS More tea, Ette. Mm-hm. DISTANT SCREAMING One more push, Mrs Briggs. SHE SCREAMS Very good. Goodness gracious me, what a fuss! You’ll wake the neighbours so you will. WHISTLING Oh, my God! Ette! Wait! HE PANTS Steady now, Mr Briggs. You will surely not be bringing those bottles into the birth room.

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