If I were a nasty, bolshy, fulsome, front-on trough of a wave, I'd be struggling to suck her down with all that firmness of bilge and flare in the forefoot, if I wanted to get the better of Annie. She's so broad...
If I were a rising, cresting, crashing wave coming down on her stem, I'd have nothing to get hold of if I wanted to push Annie abaft, there's nothing to grasp. She's so thin...
Now she's having her bottom scraped again, but you'll be relieved to know that she and the wave lived happily ever after.
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