Do you have any problems that Fake Twink can help you with? Whether it’s my perfect impression of Maureen Potter’s napkin-folding skills or my time in the Seventies as a mail-away bride in Mogadishu, Fake Twink has seen it all. Unbelievable, you might say.
Oh, my God, what is she like? Well, Fake Twink has a big, big heart and wants to make sure you can fuck up your enemies just as well she can using voicemail, at the very least.
Email me at faketwink@gmail.com
Yawh, bitches. Fake Twink, the Feisty Oul One is here. Here in my all glory to bring a bit a musical ligh’ into yer lives. I’m a Dubliner by trade. A Rathfarnhamite, if ya would. There’s a touch of London in there too. You know my daddy used to work with Royal Doulton. Perriwinkles n’ all.
Holy Moly. I always loved the bit of dawnsing – a ballet brat, you could say. But good Lord. Didn’t it serve me well when I was in Vegas. I was an angel there you know. Of the flap-flap variety. I travelled the Strip length and breadth. You know, I knew Elvis quite well. Gawd, didn’t fancy him though. Yawh, I was about 6 or 7 years too young for his swinging mickey. Enough of this ghastly dictation, now Mipsey, you can stop yer typing. Time for you to give mes a walk.
