The brothers of Virginia Giuffre responded this week irritated to Donald Trump, who said that Jeffrey Epstein once stolen their then seventeen -year -old sister from his spa. They stumbled over the word stolen because the girl was not an object in their eyes. Whether Trump agrees? What do you think yourself?
Personally, I continued to crochet the word spa resort that I think you can also simply call a proletary brill part. With Mr. D. Trump as chief pimp, who then tested the free -range personally every week. The British Royal Highness Prince Andrew undoubtedly does not agree with that and prefers a Bible -resistant Sunday school.
The brothers also said that Virginia was not stolen but was recruited. And not by Epstein, but by Ghislaine Maxwell. Virginia herself said it differently: that she was recruited by Jeffrey’s sex shaft. I think the concept of recruiting in this case is slightly closer to the truth. Prince Andrew will soon declare that Virginia and he first had Penfriends for two years before they met hesitantly at a youth camp fire on that cozy virgin island. At least fifty letters preceded that. According to the prince, they never went further physically than she has tied his laces. He couldn’t do that himself. He had never learned that at the palace. He had a lacquer for that.
The Giuffre family has now also begged Donald to give that scary Maxwell not a grace. They consider that opportunity. Certainly if she can suddenly no longer remember certain pedo guests. She has already called Rutte to ask how you do that. The so -called ‘forgot to best’. Donald had given Ghislaine the number of Mark, which he considered since the warm NATO summit in The Hague.
I met the delicious concept of bonus son this week when I read that Bram Hees was barking, foam pelvis between Gordon and some Talpa trainee. For the record: Bram is not in this case that Utrecht angry wolf, but the fallen top lawyer Moszkowicz, who nowadays shakes his money together as a gossip ass at the literary Shownieuws. Flame in Brammetje’s brain, I thought full of compassion when I heard about the schoolyard.
What was the fight about? I know a lot. Look back then? I really don’t have time for that. I have more important things on my mind. Such as the disconcerting switch from NSC pension cannon Agnes Joseph to the soul-wit BBB of Caroline and Mona. The Binnenhof shook its foundations this week. She leaves party party Eddy van Hijum lonely. On Wednesday, October 29, our Eddy will be completely alone in his total deserted party office in the evening. Zero seats. He looks at the TV with the sound because he is crazy about the increasingly harder cheering Henri Bontenbal. He already knows that he will be our new prime minister. Eddy sees that even in Enschede, nobody voted for him. Really nobody at all. So even Pietje Omtzigt didn’t like it anymore. The only phone call he gets that evening is from Yesilgöz. After her loss of fourteen seats, she seeks comfort in other election victims. Eddy keeps his mobile a meter from his ear. That sharp voice of the VVD-Troela cannot be done. And not at all if she has lost.
I long for the coming week. Why? Vitesse makes a final frantic attempt to continue to play football at the court. I sincerely hope they win. Simply because they just belong. Lovely such a club with the first crazy village jeweler Karel Aalbers and then the most incompetent Russian and Georgian fantasts in that far too expensive stadium. What was a god spot that monk houses. But Arnhem deserves a football club without a number blind Charlatan board.
I really mean this. Just continue next year. From my part with Eddy van Hijum as chairman and Yesilgöz as a mascot. Who know what losses is.