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Sharon is dragging her two evil brat offspring round the supermarket in Sarrfend. The brats are screaming, wiping snot on the French-style baton, and generally being hel_l-spawn. Sharon is coping in her usual magnificent fashion, by being louder than they are, and threatening to knock the kids into the middle of next week, as she waddles down the aisle in her tasteful pink shell suit.

"What you f**king looking at?" she shrieks to the old gentleman staring bemusedly at the chaos.

"I was just wondering if your lovely children were twins" he says in a gentle mild-mannered way.

"Twins? Twins? - Any <deleted> can see they're not. Kylie's 9 and Brooklyn's 5. What the <deleted> you on?"

"I'm sorry - I just couldn't imagine anyone wanting to sh*g you twice!

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