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Why does my wife love Nigerian lads so much?

Okay, from what I can see, he's somewhere with a fence around him, and whatever that fucker behind Feeney's almighty fucking neck is up to likely involves underpants, nappies, and Sudocreme. There are cacti also behind him to the right. Mexico? Donabate? Who knows?

Also, look at the reflection in the (ridiculously cheap) sunglasses: he took the photo himself, yet he seems oblivious to the sheer scale and mass of his own neck? So much so that, even with three people in the frame, his neck still occupies one half of the whole shot?

Anyway, what's your man behind his back up to?
Sniffing farts?
Oiling the dried-out areas?
Poop checking?
Skid-mark seeking?

Or just a man with fairly decent sized fingers?
A love for Feeney to finally call his own?
The mind boggles.
 
We were in Supervalu the other day and she encountered a black lad. Starting bending over to reveal her cleavage, sucking on a banana from the fruit section while winking at him.

What do you do in situations like this?
 
She was flashing her knickers at some black fella protesting in Galway yesterday. Now in fairness to her she was pissed drunk and these kinds of thing can happen.
 
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