This is how the word would have flowed from your mouth if you had spirit and knowledge. But you've never seen a ghost, you unhappy bagpiper, although you think it's logical that you can become a politician from a grope.
It was nice Peti! It was nice Peti! Go on, don't cut it! Don't flirt with one guy or girl, get into larger groups at the same time, it's more economical.
We should get used to the nonsense of calling him Hungarian, even if that is his name. A self-sacrificing Hungarian doesn't talk about anyone the way this reincarnation of Béla Kun talks about everyone. As my fondly remembered father used to say about such figures: Horse parts stick out of their mouths.
I'm tired of having to deal with this gigolo, persistence, this artificial liver, soccer player's wife, this idol of neglected middle-aged women, but once he deals with us, there is no fairy tale, we are forced to do it.
Pyotr-Petrovich Vengersky's snowshoes are full - he puts it elegantly in another way, precisely naming a part of the body that hangs down from the middle of the body in a man - with the press. In general. And individually. And he expressed this with such sharp chiseledness that even the girls looking for their daily allowance in the train line blush. Nightingale, that nightingale:
You have to avoid the sleazy (he didn't say that, but I'm embellishing) media. I sent the ATV to the joy girl's mother (that's not what she called it, but I'm embellishing it) yesterday, I cut off (that's not how she expressed herself, but I'm embellishing it) the microphone, I said I won't come here again.
For the sake of complete authenticity, and because Petrovic is known to be a man of his word, since then he has gone several times...
I sent 444 to the joy girl's mother (she didn't use that term, but I'm embellishing it too), the Index, she said angrily, and then added: I'm going to communicate with people directly and I'll deface (that's not how she expressed herself, but I'm embellishing) the media, the many earthenware pots (that's not how he put it, but I'm beautifying them) as they are, because I'm cleaning them (understand as above), but really.
And when his ex-lover mentions empathy, Pjotr tells us with proletarian simplicity: Everyone has a whistle (he expressed it a little differently, but I am embellishing it) among empaths.
Our sweet mother tongue just flows from the lips of the molded messiah!
You could have said it better, little knight, in a different tone... Like this, just listen:
Defiantly: Hold your dictaphone in front of my nose, I'm sure I won't talk into it!
Friendly: Little scribbler, give me your pen, you can't interview me!
Descriptor: I see you, little chick, like a migrant brain surgeon!
Curious: What does this brain patient want from me? To ask? I didn't eat lime!
And so on, in the style of Cyrano, until the final sentences:
This is how the word would have flowed from your mouth, If you had spirit and knowledge. But you've never seen a ghost, you unhappy bagpiper, although you think it's logical that you can become a politician from a grope.
However, Petykó is not only an intellectual giant, but also a banker. Fueled by self-confidence, he moans: I will push them into the Danube.
Really, Vengersky? Wow, you've suddenly become a strong boy! Like a bouncer at the Ötkert nightclub. No, they pushed you there, not into the Danube, but out from under the panties of teenage girls. It's good to know that a journalist is not a mobile phone that you can throw into the river.
By the way, can you swim?
Author: György Tóth Jr
