Placeholder: The editor's want somethin' new but all I can think about is that bogan sheila Tank Girl and the spot of trouble she's always brewin' up. I dig deep into me noggin but it's all getting a bit spooky in there - the coffee's gone straight to me thinker and now the gumtrees are talkin' dialogue from a Mad Max sequel. Oi, get a grip mate! Focus on something Crawlin' with creepy-crawlies and give 'em a yarn that'll have 'em clamberin' under the desks! Right, let's see what Tank Girl's gotten herself i The editor's want somethin' new but all I can think about is that bogan sheila Tank Girl and the spot of trouble she's always brewin' up. I dig deep into me noggin but it's all getting a bit spooky in there - the coffee's gone straight to me thinker and now the gumtrees are talkin' dialogue from a Mad Max sequel. Oi, get a grip mate! Focus on something Crawlin' with creepy-crawlies and give 'em a yarn that'll have 'em clamberin' under the desks! Right, let's see what Tank Girl's gotten herself i

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@generalpha

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The editor's want somethin' new but all I can think about is that bogan sheila Tank Girl and the spot of trouble she's always brewin' up. I dig deep into me noggin but it's all getting a bit spooky in there - the coffee's gone straight to me thinker and now the gumtrees are talkin' dialogue from a Mad Max sequel. Oi, get a grip mate! Focus on something Crawlin' with creepy-crawlies and give 'em a yarn that'll have 'em clamberin' under the desks! Right, let's see what Tank Girl's gotten herself i

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1 year ago

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The editor's want somethin' new but all I can think about is that bogan sheila Tank Girl and the spot of trouble she's always brewin' up. I dig deep into me noggin but it's all getting a bit spooky in there - the coffee's gone straight to me thinker and now the gumtrees are talkin' dialogue from a Mad Max sequel. Oi, get a grip mate! Focus on something Crawlin' with creepy-crawlies and give 'em a yarn that'll have 'em clamberin' under the desks! Right, let's see what Tank Girl's gotten herself i
[sexy Tank Girl] Amidst the surreal and mutant landscape, a peculiar figure stood at the center of the unfolding tableau, a solitary beacon of audacity amidst the strange beauty of this world. It was Tank Girl, her silhouette unmistakable even from afar, a distant enigma in this surreal realm. From my elevated vantage point, she appeared as a lone wanderer, a tiny but defiant figure amidst the contorted flora and nightmarish creatures that inhabited the mutant environment. Her tank, an eccentric
Dressed in a hodgepodge of garments, she wore a weathered leather jacket adorned with patches from countless adventures, neon leggings that clashed brilliantly with her battered combat boots, and a riotous assortment of belts and buckles that jingled with every step. With an ecstatic whoop that echoed through the canyon, Tank Girl bounded toward her beloved tank, a psychedelic masterpiece amidst the natural wonder. The tank's surface was painted in swirling, fluorescent patterns that seemed to
Straddling her technicolor tank amidst the awe-inspiring grandeur of the Grand Canyon, Tank Girl was a vision of fierce allure that demanded attention. As the last rays of the setting sun caressed her wild hair, her silhouette seemed to meld with the rugged contours of her beloved machine. Her hair, a cascade of fiery reds and electric blues, defied gravity in its unruly splendor, framing her face like a wild halo. The canyon's warm, fading light played tricks with her skin, casting a seductive
[sexy Tank Girl] Amidst the surreal and mutant landscape, a peculiar figure stood at the center of the unfolding tableau, a solitary beacon of audacity amidst the strange beauty of this world. It was Tank Girl, her silhouette unmistakable even from afar, a distant enigma in this surreal realm. From my elevated vantage point, she appeared as a lone wanderer, a tiny but defiant figure amidst the contorted flora and nightmarish creatures that inhabited the mutant environment. Her tank, an eccentric
Tank Girl in her iconic scene
Far away, on the distant horizon where the wastelands met the sky, a small but unmistakable figure came into view. She was perched atop a hulking, makeshift vehicle, a ragtag tank that seemed to defy the very laws of mechanics. Her silhouette, framed by the dying embers of the day, was instantly recognizable. Tank Girl, a symbol of defiance and rebellion in this desolate world, rode the contraption with a wild, untamed spirit. Her hair, a shock of colorful disarray, billowed in the wind as she s
"Tank Girl: Apocalypse." Now... what does it look like? No! Did that before-- What? No, not that way! Damn deadlines. Setting me off completely. Too much pressure. Mixing up the scenes! Too much caffeine. That's it. Damn coffee overdose! What's that? No! You didn't want any kangaroo armies! Now wait a minute. You can't breathe. Too hot in here. Gotta open your eyes! Your mouth! What? They're open? Impossible-- You can't breathe! What? Fly? You are not going to fly! That's insane
Dressed in a hodgepodge of garments, she wore a weathered leather jacket adorned with patches from countless adventures, neon leggings that clashed brilliantly with her battered combat boots, and a riotous assortment of belts and buckles that jingled with every step. With an ecstatic whoop that echoed through the canyon, Tank Girl bounded toward her beloved tank, a psychedelic masterpiece amidst the natural wonder. The tank's surface was painted in swirling, fluorescent patterns that seemed to
Tank Girl wore a patchwork of punk-rock attire, each piece a symbol of her fierce individuality. A tattered leather jacket, adorned with an eclectic assortment of pins and patches, clung to her lithe frame. Fishnet stockings ran beneath the cutoff shorts that defied the scorching heat. Her combat boots were worn and scuffed, bearing witness to countless adventures across the wastelands. In her grip, she held a weapon that was both her ally and her declaration of defiance—a hefty, modified firear
Tank Girl, never one to shy away from pushing boundaries, continued her audacious display of defiance. She holstered her modified firearm briefly on her hip, then, with a sly grin, brought it up to her lips, sensuously licking the barrel in a provocative manner. Her actions were both a testament to her irreverent spirit and a calculated challenge to anyone who might underestimate her. As the camera captured the daring act, the metal of the gun glistened under the unforgiving desert sun, making
Tank Girl's tank, a bizarre amalgamation of salvaged parts and defiant engineering, seemed like a mere dot against the backdrop of the decaying world. The roar of its engine was a distant murmur, carried faintly by the wind, barely audible from where I stood. As I strained my eyes to catch a glimpse of her, it became apparent that she was a fleeting mirage, a lone wanderer in a forsaken realm. Her wild hair and rebellious attire were mere brushstrokes of color in the muted palette of the wastel
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