This is the phrase that a crackhead with screech at you after
almost being ran over by "some lip" in a blue Ford. This may take place outside of a newly built care home or a nursery that kind of rhymes with 'Tittle Nippley'. After the crackbum has destroyed her lungs with fifty cigarettes and a bottle of K-aid that she dyes her hair with, the
crackhole takes pleasure in terrorising poor unsuspecting children. She can usually be found outside phone booths with her legs open, chatting up little kids. She will
cackle loudly whenever children are near. This cackle is her mating call. Dating back to the ancient Incans, whenever faced with this
cracknose, it has become common knowledge among fisherman to run into the nearest off license. If the
crackface follows you, she will be so mesmorised by all the booze, she wont follow you anymore. Instead, she will drink away all those months spent in rehab.
Charlie: What is that? Looks like a walking pack of ciggies! White on the top and brown on the bottom!
Kaid: Walk past quickly and don't make eye contact! I've dealt with these crackelbows back in Vietam!
(They walk past her very quickly when they hear a strange noise).
Cathy:
keEP oN sCrEwIng! (x2)
Kaid: Christ, she's different to any I know! I hooked up with one and she was nowhere as bad as this crackmunch! This is an evolved
Crokémon!
Charlie She looks like my mummy.