Well hello there.
I see you've caught me hugging one of my teammates as we celebrate winning the Premier League title. I haven't caught his name yet, but judging by his armband, it's "Captain." Maybe Benjamin Captain? It's not important. What is important is that you're watching me in this tender moment and you, my most precious of Berba-babes, are probably getting quite jealous of Mr. Captain. Well, don't worry -- in a half hour to 45 minutes when I decide to let go of Benjamin, I will shower you with embraces so sticky you'll need a rain coat. Ha-HA!
Ah, I see you've found a bottle of celebratory champagne. ... Yes, I know you can use it as a weapon against me, as you have so many times before, but I urge you to save it for later, so we can slurp its fizzy nectar in the comfort of my inflatable pool filled with mayonnaise and my disturbingly hairy cousin Timitar. Ha-HA! You see, as leading goal scorer and part-time player for Manchester United, The Berba has been given permission to host a special celebration for the club's 19th title. ... Yes, Chicharito a.k.a. Little Berba will be there, but please stop focusing solely on him. The real attraction at my erotic celebration? Well, perhaps you saw Wayne Rooney shave his chest hair into a "19". Disgusting, I know. Which is why I will shave the word "nineteen" into my Berba-merkin. Ha-HA!
Oh-OHHH! You hit me with the champagne bottle even though I specifically asked you to save it for my sexy part! Oh, you hit me right in the shoulder blade, too, knowing that it's the most sensitive spot on The Berba-body! Oh, I would say that it's a good thing Captain is still hugging me, but his grip is tightening to an unerotic level and I'm just now realizing that he might be a cyborg.
Join us again next time for another chapter in the life of...The Continental...
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