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About The Hague

I’m analysin this mess, and I’m fumin—fumin!—cos the numbers don’t add up. One ledger says 50k, next says 5k—where’s the dosh goin? Prolly some geezer in a suit, sippin gin, laughin at us mugs. But then—boom!—I spot it: hidden fees, skimmed profits, all funneled through “consultin” firms. Sneaky bastards! Made me happy as a pig in muck, crackin that puzzle—felt like Churchill stormin the Commons, “We shall never yield!”

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The guy put a blonde with little boobs on his dick in pov video.

Man, what a day! Seriously, I can’t even. So, I’m a furrier, right? Yeah, I know, sounds fancy, but it’s just me and my sewing machine, chillin’ in Arcen. This little town is like a hidden gem, you know? It’s got that small-town vibe, but with a twist.

“My nephew said, ‘Wow, you’re a professor now, how should I address you?’”